


Sobriety

by Colelockian



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Drugs, Fluff, Friendship, Mary and John are friends, Other, POV Greg, POV John Watson, POV Mary Morstan, POV Sherlock Holmes, Post Reichenbach, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-27
Updated: 2014-06-27
Packaged: 2018-02-06 10:39:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 41,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1855030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Colelockian/pseuds/Colelockian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson watched the love of his life die and has some trouble trying to move on. After attempting suicide John joins a sobriety group and meets someone who may change his life for the better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pills

_A month…_

_It’s been a month…_

_Only a month?_

_Wow it feels much longer…_

There is was, the pain. The ever lingering pain that at times is a wave that can’t be controlled then it is a throb not enough to slow you down but enough to be noticed. Drinking down the hard whiskey it burns all the way down but not as much as the tears that almost constantly fall.

_Falling…I had a friend who fell…fell right off a roof…_

_Fell all the way down to the ground…splat!_

A moan sounding more like a dying cat than a broken man escapes not enough for an echo in the empty flat. The hard tiled floor of the bathroom presses sharply though there is no memory of sitting.

_Falling always falling…_

Dark diluted thoughts foggy in the haze of intoxication the world begins its spin starting slow but soon becomes a vortex. Hands grip the floor hoping to steady the earth it seems to help. Wandering eyes drift to the sink counter gazing over the multitude of prescriptions.

_Pills, so many pills…_

_Pills for this…_

_Pills for that…_

_Pills for life…_

_Pills for death…_

_Pills…for…death…_

The body moves slowly almost on its own pulling towards the counter with no stability for walking. The journey drags on the counter seems to go, moving in the wrong direction. With a burst of energy the last few inches pass and the counter top is within reach. Back against the counter one arm braced to the floor, the other searching the top. Fingers grip a bottle pulling to down.

_Benzodiazepines…_

The doctor side recognizes the name… _sleep helper_ …the drunk side understands. Popping the bottles cap a majority to the containers inhabitants are consumed and drenched with a hefty swig of alcohol. Letting the bottle fall to the floor and watching the remaining pills scurry across the tiles.

_How many did I take?_

_Two…_

_Four…_

_Ten?_

The thoughts of how much was taken instigated a short hysterical giggle.

_Too many…much too many…_

That didn’t bother. A sense of peace was beginning to descend. Falling…falling…Heavy eyelids slid shut as the drugs start to take effect.

_Far away, with no pain, no falling, no…death…_


	2. Companion

“And that’s when I took the pills,” John Watson’s voice quiver slightly with the fresh memory, “I knew what I was doing I just wanted the pain to go away. I thought that if I took the pills I would just drift away and I wouldn’t have to live with the constant pain…” he faded his eyes staring hard at the floor.

“Thank you John,” the kind voice of the sobriety leader broke the silence.

John glanced up. Here he was in a sobriety support group a week after overdosing on sleeping meds. John had spent days in the hospital after getting his stomach pumped poor Mrs. Hudson standing by his side sobbing quietly. He hadn’t spared a thought for the gentle landlady when he made his drunken decision to end his life. John had been so focused on his own pain to think of how his actions would cause others pain or the pain they were feeling as well.

_He was their friend too…_

A voice in John’s head reminded him. No! He wasn’t going to think about him! That’s what started this whole thing. That man! That insufferable man that had jumped!

_Stop it!_

John growled to himself forcing himself to listen to the person talking now.

“He was my boyfriend,” it was a younger woman late twenties, early thirties maybe, short blonde hair, and large blue eyes, “We had been dating a few months and I knew he was using I just never thought I would. He took me to a party one night…” her voice broke off as her eyes traveled around the room shining with tears, “and that’s when I first started. I got so high that night I didn’t realize my boyfriend selling me off to the highest bidder in the room.”

John’s heart stopped as he stared at her.

“For the next year I would get high then my boyfriend would invite men over. The men were strangers, anyone my boyfriend could find on the street with cash. They would do what they wanted with me and then leave. I would be in the clinic at least once a week with a broken finger, wrist, a bloody lip. After the last visit I was sober enough to realize I needed help, I needed to leave. I never went back. From the clinic I took a train to London. It’s been three months since my last hit,” the woman finished.

The pause that followed was deafening, the woman began to look nervous so John began to clap. He was soon followed by the rest of those in the circle. The woman looked at John with a weak smile of gratitude.

“Thank you Mary,” the sobriety leader said with a bright forced smile. 

John hated that, seeing regular people he knew and forced these fake smiles to what? Be polite? It was infuriating. John hid the glare he had been directing at the leader turning to look at Mary.

She was pretty not his usual type but attractive. Her eyes glanced at him locking on for a moment. John looked away with slight embarrassment. The remainder of the session went mildly by with a few stolen glances at the blonde but her eyes stayed interested in the speaker.

“You’re John aren’t you?” Mary asked afterwards coming up to him.

John gave a quick nod “Yes and you’re Mary,” he stated giving her a slight smile.

Her eyes weren’t shining with tears anymore now they held something a little more cheerful. “How has your first week been?” she asked, “I know mine was a little rough from the beginning,”

John thought it over. How did he feel? He didn’t even consider himself like the rest of these people. He had really come to this to help keep his mind on other things and to listen to other people’s problems. “Good, very good. Yea a bit rough but I’m working it out.” John answered not exactly honest but not a lie either.

Mary nodded looking suddenly nervous “Hey there was something I wanted to ask you,” she started John was curious hoping she wanted a date maybe or a number exchange, “Most of us in this group have outside support and it gives us someone to talk to when we have hard days. I was wondering if you wanted to be my sober companion?” her question surprised him.

It was most definitely not what he thought she was going to ask. “I…ah…well…ummm…” he stammered.

Mary responds quickly, “You don’t have to answer now,” she didn’t want him to feel pushed, “I just remember its hard and having someone who understands might help, just think on it and next week tell me.” Mary suggested.

John closed his mouth “Yes…umm… thank you lovely to have met you.” He said as his goodbye and departed.

 

* * *

 

 

_Sober companion?_

John was thinking and he didn’t really relish the thought of having someone under his skin all the time.

_I already have one and he’s a pain._

_I don’t need another…_

John sighed he didn’t know why he was thinking about this anyway he was going to tell Mary no. He wasn’t addicted to any substances let alone sleeping pills. He was addicted to something even less healthy, another person. Sadly that person was dead and gone, never to show his arrogant face again.

_He’s not dead!_

A stubborn voice in the back of his mind chimed in starting the same old argument all over again. Despite everything John tried a small part of him still believed that his best friend was still alive somewhere.

_Still can’t say his name?_

_Pathetic…_

John shook his head. Every day that stubborn side grew quieter and quieter fading as his realized truth set in. That his friend was indeed dead and buried, it was things like that made John hesitate in his decision in saying no to Mary.

_It’s someone to talk to who might understand…_

_Who could understand this sick obsession?_

He had to agree with himself. John was almost overwhelmed with his god-like image he had of his friend and if anyone knew they would be disturbed. Who else could he talk to then an ex-addict?

_Mycroft?_

John scoffed that was a ridiculous notion even if he could bring himself over to see the older brother of his friend. The stiff emotionless man would be the less than ideal listener. Irritatingly John could hear the man’s voice “Sentiment John is a ridiculous hindrance,” though Mycroft would have something a little more annoying to add in.

“John!” a voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

John was sitting in his usual chair clutching an icy cup of tea and staring at the empty spot across from him.

“John dear,” the voice came again.

John blinked recognizing Mrs. Hudson’s voice. Glancing over his shoulder to see her in the doorway watching him her face showing concern, “Dear are you alright? Do you want to talk?” John couldn’t think of anything worse than talking to Mrs. Hudson except for talking to Mycroft of course. He forced a smile hoping it looked genuine.

She eyed him a bit longer but sighed “Just let me know if there is something you need from me,” Mrs. Hudson said looking him over with sad eyes before backing out of the room shutting the door quietly. John took a deep breath releasing it slowly.

 

“So I’ve thought of your offer,” John spoke softly surprised she heard him, Mary turned, her eyes alight, “And my answer is…” his voice faltered Mary’s face softened recognizing his inner battle. “Yes…” John managed with obvious effort.

Mary smiled softly at him for a moment before her hand hit him lightly on the shoulder laughing. “Very well Mr. John! But you sir need to lighten up first!” Her hand rested on John’s shoulder giggling. John was stunned by her reaction before he felt a thin smile spreading across his face.

 

The first few weeks John assumed would be awkward with his new sober companion but it turned out to be the most comfortable. Mary was so energetic and charismatic that she took all discomfort from the room and John found that he really enjoyed hanging out with her. They spent most of their time meeting at cafes or diners spending a few hours a day just talking not too personal just everyday things.

“So are you doing anything tonight?” Mary asked suddenly as she took a bite.

John had a mouth full and was stuck for a moment from answering. “Not that I know of but there’s a good chance my schedule is clear,” he said after swallowing, “Why?” He added looking up to see her preparing another bite.

“Because I want to have a movie night and I’m a loser with no friends so I’m asking you if you want to come over to keep me company.” Mary replied.

John chuckled. “Why don’t you be a grown up and go make some friends?” He suggested not keen on the idea.

Mary laughed sticking for tongue out. “Do I look grown up to you? Besides why do I need friends when I have my Johnny boy.” She teased poking him lightly in the shoulder.

John laughed a real laugh truly amused by the younger woman “You are some sort of crazy,” He told her finishing off his food, “Alright fine I’ll come be a part of your world for the night.” He agreed not reluctant one bit.

Mary wrinkled up her nose at him “Good! I got a few things to take care of I’ll send you a text with the address, show up around 6, and I’ll get some pizza to share.” Mary said throwing some money on their table before hurrying from the diner.

 

**42 Northwest Chamberlin. Hope you like meat on your pizza cuz that’s what I got! See you around 6! – Mary**

John read through the message again checking the street signs around making sure he had found the right place.

Number 42 Northwest Chamberlin was a cozy little two story building that was lit up and welcoming.

John pulling his coat tighter against the cold before trudging up the front steps the door at the top opened revealing a smiling Mary.

“Here you are I was getting worried?” She said opening the door wider for him to enter.

John glanced at his phone “I’m only two minutes late,” he countered.

Mary shrugged “Makes you late in my book,” she told him with a giggle closing the door once he was in.

“I’m sorry did I keep your other friends waiting?” John joked Mary stuck her tongue out.

“Shut up!” She smacked him playfully on the arm before leading him into a spacious living/dining room.

“Get comfortable and plant yourself there,” Mary gestured to the couch piled with blankets.

John watched her head to the dining area where a pizza box was sitting.

“One or two?” She asked grabbing up a paper plate while opening the box.

“One, do you get cold or something?” He asked smiling as he counted the blankets on the sofa.

Mary came back over carrying two plates. “I get extremely cold!” She answered setting the plates on the coffee table.

John chuckled “This seems a little excessive,” he said.

Mary smirked “Not at all!” She retorted.

John looked at her “Mary there are at least a dozen blankets on your couch!” Mary merely shrugged pulling some of the blankets off tossing them on to another chair.

“Sit,” she ordered giving John his pizza when he was down, “What a drink, water, beer, or cool-aid.” Mary asked, going through the list.

John smiled not surprised she had cool-aid in her fridge. “A beer would be great,” he replied watching as she moved around the couch disappearing into the kitchen.

She was back shortly, two beers in hand throwing herself into the seat next to John. They sat there a moment John glanced around. “Aren’t we here to watch a movie?” He asked.

Mary jumped back to her feet “Oh yes!” she laughed it seemed she had forgotten. John chuckled as she pulled up a few movies “Harry Potter? Braveheart, Die Hard 3?” Mary rattled off.

 John shrugged. “What eve r you want.” He said not particular towards any of those.

Mary frowned, “Johnny! Pick one.” She said in a mocked whining voice puffing out her lower lip.

“Fine Braveheart,” John laughed waving at the movie, “I do like Mel Gibson.” He added. Mary hopped over to the DVD player and put it in.


	3. Movie Night

“I always love the Irish guy!” Mary told John after the movie.

John stretched. He and Mary had been curled up on the couch and finished Braveheart though he hadn’t done much watching mostly staring at the screen lost in his thoughts.

“Yea it was great…” He muttered stifling a yawn.

Mary looked unconvinced. “If it was that boring you should have said something.” She teased jumping from her seat.

“It wasn’t boring I’m just not much of a movie watcher,” John watched her move around.

“How can you not be a movie watcher?” Mary asked looking a little stunned, “I’m an obsessive movie watcher, it’s almost clinical!” she joked returning to her seat after putting the movie away and turning the electronics off.

John shrugged “I just got used to not seeing movies that I just kind of stuck like that. I mean with being in the army, then being sent home invalid. Movies were just not of interest to me especially when I was living with Sher…” John stammered to a halt. He had been rambling not really aware of where his thoughts were going.

_No…not yet…too soon!!!_

“John,” Mary spoke soothingly gentling touching his arm, “You want to talk about it?” she asked.

_No!!!_

John’s thoughts screamed as he felt the air pressure drop from the room. It was getting hard to breath and for a moment he believed that he might actually pass out.

“John?” Mary’s voice snapped him out of his silent panic attack.

John took in a deep breath. “I’ll tell you about getting shot in Afghanistan,” He offered dryly but Mary nodded.

“That’s better than nothing at least you tell me something and I’ll tell you something.” She said turning her body to face him leaning into the couch.

“It had been a routine patrol. I was the on call mobile medic so I had to go. It was thirty other guys and four Humvees. We were instructed to be on point by sun down to meet up with an American recon insurgent. That route had been cleared days before so we were a little lacks. Two hours into the patrol an IED exploded taking out our front. I was stationed in the middle when the fire fight started,” John paused knowing this was the point in his story where HE would start to drift off saying ‘what’s the point in telling it again we all know what happened,’ but Mary was at full attention, eyes wide and even leaning towards him.

John smiled a bit. “There was so much dust in the air from the explosion we couldn’t pinpoint where the gun fire was coming from. I was doing my best to keep myself from running to tend to the injured. After some minutes I was able to somewhat get the general direction the attack was coming from and I needed to get the men who were down. So I ran for it. It still amazes me to this day that I didn’t get shot right then. Bullets flew passed me but I didn’t stop.”

“The truck was a twisted mess and I didn’t know if anyone was alive for a moment. There was blood and dismembered body parts everywhere so I knew there was at least a few casualties. Checking anyone I could I came up with six of ten who had been around the truck. Two had been outside the truck, the others inside. The two outside had the least amount of injuries. One of the ones inside, I remember had glass imbedded in his throat. When I went to treat him he stopped me shaking his head I think he knew as well as I there wasn’t much I could do for him.”

“The next one I treated had lost his leg below the knee. He had already lost a lot of blood and was fading fast. With the limited supplies I knew I had very little time to save the man. I don’t remember much after that but when it came down to it I saved him…somehow I saved him. Next thing I know I’m on the ground.” John paused as the memories surfaced and the pain bit dully into his shoulder.

“I must have hit my head on the ground when I fell back. One minute I was finishing up on the solider, the next I’m on my back…sickeningly blue skies staring back at me. I should have known something was wrong instantly but my brain was focused more on the injured men. It took a few seconds before burning pain ripped through me. I remember turning my head and seeing the blood coming out of my shoulder. My first thought was; ‘Hey, that’s not supposed to be doing that,’” John paused giving a small chuckle.

Mary smiled weakly waiting for him to continue.

“What surprised me most about being shot was the amount of pain is indescribable. I never really understood until that moment how much pain a body could handle. I must have passed out but not for long. When the other soldiers tried to move me the pain from my shoulder woke me up. The pain was blinding I couldn’t concentrate on anything going on around me. I fought and struggled not understanding what was happening. Then I’m out again.”

“From there I’m in and out for a few days. Later I asked the doctors who treated me to piece things together. I had come in bleeding severely with three others. The bullet had going cleanly through my shoulder blade and it should have been an easy sew up. A few hours later infection was setting in. They did everything they could to treat it but it infection just got worse over the next couple days.”

“When I finally became fully aware I was through the worse of the infection but it had already been decided I was getting honorable discharged and sent home.” John stopped the memories cutting clearly into his mind like a sharp blade, “I was home two months and I hated it. I hated it so much. I didn’t realize I wasn’t cut out for civilian life, everything was too tedious. Then I bumped into Mike Stamford, a friend of mine from Uni, he introduced us, he introduced me to…Him…” the doctor’s voice faded hating himself for being so weak.

Mary’s soft hand squeezed his arm gently. “You want to talk about him?” she asked quietly.

John shook his head. “No…not…yet…” He breathed she nodded lightly and he caught understanding in her blue eyes.

Mary’s hand slid down his arm gripping his hand squeezing it gently “Alright”

They sat quietly. John was getting ready to excuse himself for home when Mary sighed. “I said I would tell you something about myself,” She said slowly looking at him.

Her eyes looked haunted “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” John offered.

Mary shook her head. “That wouldn’t be fair now would it,” She spoke softly giving him a weak smile.

Mary had aged ten years right before his eyes. The gleam that had burned in her eyes was dull, full of pain and shame. The change was dramatic and it stunned John speechless.

“It was almost two years ago when I met him. My boyfriend,” Mary started off slowly her eyes staring off, “His name was Ryan. I was shy and had only been at that party because my Uni friends basically kidnapped me. Said I spent too much locked in my dorm.” She paused giving a little giggle, “I felt out of place. The minute I got to the party my friends left me. An hour into the party I was standing in a corner watching everyone having fun, dancing or what they called dancing. I couldn’t even see my friends anymore and no one else looked familiar.”

“I happened to look over as the door opened. That’s when I first spotted Ryan. I remember everything about him. The spice of his cologne, the vintage Beatles shirt and faded jeans that fit him just right, the way he parted his brown hair, and the green of his eyes.” Mary stammered to a stop glancing over at John. He could see the signs of tears building in them. “The moment he walked through that door the world stopped. His eyes found me and I couldn’t look away. I don’t know how but one minute he’s by the door, the next he’s in front of me asking my name. I was so stunned I just stood there awkwardly staring.”

“He touched my shoulder and asked if I was alright. Somehow I got through that embarrassing moment and we spent the rest of the night talking. Even to this day I believe that Ryan truly did like me on that first meeting or even those first few months but the moment he got me addicted and started whoring me out is the day I started hating him. I just didn’t realize it.” Mary took a deep breath, “After that party we met up a few times, got some drinks, and shared some stories. About a week later we started dating, started spending the night at each other’s houses, started acting like a couple.”

“Ryan didn’t hide his addiction from me and I didn’t nag him about it. I let my feelings for him blind me from seeing him as he truly was. When I got sober I could remember everything clearly. The way he would speak to me, the way he would touch me, it wasn’t healthy but at the time I didn’t see any of it. Some months down the road he took me to a party in a part of town that was shady. I didn’t mind I was tangled up in Ryan that it could have been the rubbish heap and it would have looked like a palace to me.”

“He started giving me drinks which I should have noticed was different. I’m not much of a drinker. Several drinks in, he asked if I wanted a hit. Everything was a blur I don’t even remember if I said yes or no but when he gave me the needle and put in my arm I didn’t stop him.”

“The drug was fire in my veins, I had never experienced anything like it. The thrill of it was…invigorating.” Mary spoke her voice like venom, “I remember the man Ryan took money from. I had seen him in the halls at Uni. We didn’t have any classes together but I knew he recognized me. Thankfully he was one of the gentler ones. He didn’t hurt me.  He just…” Her words caught. Mary had to take several deep breathes while John watched feeling sick. “The next day when the drugs wore off I thought it had been a dream and I made myself believe it.”

She finished her eyes closed tight silent tears rolling down her face. John stared, bile snaring the back of his throat. Compared to her John’s issues were nothing. How could she be so damn happy all of the time with those memories in her mind? John could barely function after seeing his friend’s jump but Mary was a super hero next to him.

John found his hand grabbing Mary and pulling her into a hug. “Nothing I could say would ever make this better but I can say that you will never have to go through that again.” He whispered in her ear patting her back softly.

“At least things can’t get worse,” Mary snorted as an attempt at a joke.

John let her go “There,” he said gently smiling softly, “You can joke even after all of that.” 

Mary gave a watery smile. “Too much life to be glum about,” She told him, “Besides someone has to be pleasant for your sorry ass.” She pushed him playfully.

John chuckled feeling the mood in the room lifting.

“How do you feel?” Mary asked watching his face.

He looked over and was surprised to feel contentment something he had almost forgotten “I’m good actually, really good.” He answered smiling widely.

Mary nodded smacking his arm. “That’s my Johnny!” She said returning to her normal self as if nothing had ever been wrong.

“How about you?” John asked watching her reaction.

Her face remained bright. “I’ve already accepted my demons John. I might have them for the rest of my life and I might feel them surface every now and then but I’m going to keep on moving.” Mary replied and John had to smile at the hope lighting up her eyes.


	4. Breaking Day

Months went by, John and Mary grew closer and closer nothing more than friends. They had their moments when one of them would break down.

The first time Mary had a BD (Breaking Day) John had been at the clinic all day. Getting home he walked in the flat to find lights on something he didn’t tend to do. Going in cautiously John was alert for anything out of the ordinary. Nothing turned up so John slowly moved on. The rest of the rooms were empty so John slowly moved up the stairs to his room. The door was pulled around blocking his view of most of the room. John kicked the door open spotting Mary curled up in the middle of his bed, sobbing openly into his pillow.

Hearing his footsteps she looked up her face red from crying. “Oh John,” She cried reaching for him.

Without a word John dropped his coat and kicked off his shoes before going to her.

Mary buried her face in his chest crying harder. “I didn’t know where else to go, you weren’t here but I couldn’t…” She stammered between broken sobs her voice muffled by his jumper.

“Shhh…it’s alright. You’re alright now.” John spoke gently stroking her hair.

“It’s a mess! I try to be normal, I try to act like everything is alright but everything hurts!” Mary sniffed.

John didn’t know what else to do but sit and listen but Mary seemed alright with that. “I was just at work. I realized it had been a year. A year since I saw Ryan last. A year since I left him. It hit me and all the emotions, everything about my life with Ryan came back. It was a simple thing. Something I should have been happy about but instead here I am sobbing about my problems.” She cried with a laugh.

John kissed the top of her head. “Just cry it out you’ll feel better,” He told her.

The next twenty minutes Mary sobbed before falling quiet. John let her lean into him without speak just stroking her hair softly. When he looked down John chuckled to see she had fallen asleep. Carefully he lowered her on to the mattress sliding off the bed slowly. John looked down on her thinking that the first time in a long time he felt useful again. Maybe not the same as running around after criminals but it was something.

She didn’t wake until the next morning than she was her same old self laughing and joking as if nothing had happened the night before.

 

It wasn’t long after before John had his own BD. Mary had been home alone reading quietly as the streets of London was pounded by rivers of rain. John didn’t knock as he stomped into her flat. He stopped just in the doorway the door open behind him. He scanned the room drenching the carpet his blonde hair plastered to his head. His eyes fell on Mary’s and she saw all the misery and pain. Setting the book aside she moved to get up but John moving towards her stopped that.

He didn’t sit on the couch instead he slid to the floor, his soaked back pressed into the furniture just below her curled knees. They sat in silence Mary’s eyes on the back of John’s head. Sitting forward she lowered her legs around John’s form. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders Mary pulled him into her chest dampening her shirt instantly but she didn’t care.

No sound was made from the two. The constant drumming of the rain outside echoed around them.

“You want to talk about it?” Mary asked quietly her mouth barely moving as she rested her chin on the top of John’s head.

“No…let’s just sit here.” He replied his voice cracking with emotion.

They stayed like that for almost an hour nether spoke a word.

John shifted. “My rump is asleep,” he muttered pushing himself to get up.

Mary sat back to let him stand watching as he joined her on the couch. Pulling off his wet jacket and shoes John settled himself next to Mary laying his head in her lap without another word. Some time later they fell asleep opting to stay on the couch for the rest of the night going in and out of sleep.

In the early hours of the next morning just before the sun came over the horizon Mary woke to John’s scream. She sat up startled by the sudden sound looking around groggily. It took her a moment to realize the sound came from the still sleeping John. His head was still in her lap eyes squeezed tightly and his face contorted in pain.

“John,” Mary tried touching him gently.

He began shaking and breathing heavily “Sherlock…” He gasped fear and agony radiating in his voice.

“Shhh…John,” Mary cooed wishing she could do more than sit by and watch her friend in such misery. She started softly stroking his hair helping him settle back into sleep. Mary continued to run her fingers through his hair until the sun was fully in the sky.

Around nine John groaned rolling his head from side to side. “Why do I feel like I’ve been hit by a train?” He moaned cracking his eyes to look up at her.

Mary shrugged “Don’t look at me, I don’t usually drag people in front of trains while they’re sleep.” She teased John smile lightly lifting his head.


	5. No Healing Method

A month later John opened up completely, it was John birthday so Mary decided a quiet night out would do him good. They started out having dinner at John’s preferred eating place. After eating they moved to a nearby pub.

Mary had noticed right away that John wasn’t into the evening one bit. He was quiet and distant only speaking when it was expected. “Are you alright?” She finally asked after dodging the question for a while.

John sighed a drink in his hand. “No.” Hearing that Mary grabbed his hand squeezing it gently, John stiffly pulled his hand from her. “I…I want to tell you,” He started pausing his eyes darting to hers than away quickly, “It’s going to be hard and I want you to just listen…ok? Just listen.” John took a deep breath but he still didn’t speak.

Panic seemed to be about to overwhelm him Mary bit her lip to keep from talking.

“When I came home invalid it was hard. Two months home and I was considering suicide. I didn’t have anyone in my life that I felt the need to care about even my drunk sister. I was taking a walk one morning when by chance Mike Stamford, a friend of mine from Uni. I had never really thought of Mike after Uni I didn’t think of us as close. We talked, I didn’t pay much attention. Next thing I know I’m being dragged to St. Bart’s hospital to meet a potential flat mate.”

“It wasn’t a typical meeting so that should have been a warning what I was in for but I didn’t think much it. His name is…was…” John paused closing his eyes for a moment, “Sherlock Holmes. Nothing in the world could have prepared me for the world Sherlock was going to pull me into. When I first looked at him he was a tall. A tall man but one look I couldn’t tell much about him. His first words to me were asking Iraq or Afghanistan. It was confusing I asked him to clarify. Somehow he knew! He knew almost everything about me just by a moment of looking at me.”

“He knew my phone was a gift from my sister though he was off assuming Harry was my brother. That Harry had left her wife and that I was an army doctor sent home invalid from Afghanistan. It was amazing! I can’t even fully explain how amazing it was. I can’t even put it in to words properly. Our first meeting was less than five minutes and I already had this urge to learn more about this man.”

“The next day we met to look over his flat. 221B Baker Street was a beautiful chaos. While Sherlock was showing me around a detective inspector from Scotland Yard showed up and asked from Sherlock to come. He asked if I would like to join him.”

John continued on talking about the woman in pink who scratched Rachael into the floor. Mary was enticed she hadn’t heard anything so grand but so full of misery at the same time. John was lost in the telling of his memories he smiled every now and then at little details. When he finished with Sherlock’s jump from St. Bart’s roof, tears were coursing down his face.

“That’s what I dream about,” He spoke softly, “I hear his voice over the phone telling me lie after lie and then he said it, said words I would never believe would come from his mouth. ‘This is my note, isn’t that what people do?’ I knew exactly what he was saying but my brain wasn’t working. I remember saying some other things but then I was watching him fall, watching his body rushing through the air.”

“The ambulance house was blocking my view so I couldn’t see him hit the ground but I swear I could hear it. I was knocked down by someone on a bike while I was trying to get to him. His blood was everywhere and I couldn’t see that all I saw was what he had been, what he was. That tall, lanky alabaster man with raven curls, and moon lit eyes. That stupid but lovely blue scarf and black trench, it was beautiful. I could hear his laugh, his complaining, almost every word he had ever spoken flew through my mind. Then I realized I would never hear it again. That insane, gorgeous, and absolutely brilliant man was gone.” John fell quiet seeming to be still caught in his memories.

Mary went to speak but a sob came out instead. She then felt the tears on her cheeks. In all her life she had never heard such a tragically beautiful story. She could now truly understand John’s pain, could really for the first time see the agony he had gone through. John had watched the love of his life jump to his death, he had seen the man he had come to rely on die and John didn’t understand why.

John’s eyes looked to Mary widening in surprise when he noted the tears. “Oh John,” She sobbed sliding from her chair enveloping him into a tight hug.

 

After that night Mary went online and found John’s blog. She read every word, renewing her crying. She looked up web pages by the dozens until she was spent. Mary felt numb thinking over everything she had heard and read. John was addict but not like her or the others. He was a different kind of addict, an addict for danger, yes but also an addict for a dead friend. You couldn’t heal that kind of addiction. You couldn’t even get over it.  Mary felt helpless all she could do for John was help him cope even if there was no moving on.


	6. Anniversary

At the year marker of Sherlock’s Fall. Mary and John found themselves outside St. Bart’s looking up from the exact spot John had been that day.

 Mary had come over early in the morning and made John breakfast, they didn’t speak. .Not any words. John’s flat was grim. Mary tried to smile but the mood of the day quickly smothered that. She suddenly noticed tears rolling down John’s face. She had never seen him cry not even on BD’s and Mary never wanted to again. Seeing those tears on his face broke her heart. Mary reached across the table and squeezed his arm. John looked at her his eyes vacant.

After Mary ate and John pushed the food around on his plate, he quietly said he wanted to go to where it happened. The short cab ride felt ridiculously long Mary spent the entire trip glancing between staring at John and the passing buildings. John stared out the window oblivious to everything.

Out on the sidewalk both staring up. Dark clouds over head threatened rain but it wouldn’t disrupt the mourning happening.

“I stood right here,” John murmured drawing Mary’s eyes, “I stood here and watched.” His eyes traveled down the building as if seeing the body falling through the air again. “For most people nothing had changed. For me my whole life suddenly shattered.”

Mary reached out taking his hand.

“I didn’t realize what he meant to me until that day when I lost him and I don’t want that to happen ever again,” John spoke forcing his eyes to Mary, “I have to thank you.” She shook her head but John continued, “These last few months were hard but you helped me. No words can express how much you mean to me or the gratitude I feel for your friendship.” His eyes held tears.

Mary couldn’t handle seeing his tears again so she pulled him into a hug. “Everything you feel is the same for me.” She whispered in his ear, “You are the best friend I’ve ever had.”  They stood there holding each other as the rain came down. “Is there anywhere else you want to go?” Mary asked when they separated.

John looked off down the street. “The cemetery,” he answered.

 

After finding a cab and taking it to that location. Mary stopped at the gate as John went in, wanting to give him some time.

John glanced back to see she had stopped “Are you coming?” He asked not wanting to be alone especially on this day.

Mary bit her lip still hesitant before sighing and moving to follow.

John wound his way through the cemetery following a familiar route he had taken thousands of times. Coming to the glossy headstone with the bold white lettering he stopped.

“A year,” John whispered crouching down to remove leaves clustered around the stone, “A whole year. 365 days.” Without much thought John’s fingers traced the letters. “I only wanted a miracle Sherlock,” He whispered feeling Mary’s presence further behind him, “I had never asked you for anything else. All I wanted was for you not to be dead and you couldn’t even give me that.” He felt bitter rage boiling in his throat. “Just a miracle Sherlock! Just a stupid miracle!” John snapped as the rage quickly left him.

He sighed heavily straightening up. “Listen,” he spoke softly, “There’s something I should have told you a long time ago. Something I didn’t realize until it was too late,” He paused unable to hold the tears back. “I love you Sherlock. I think I always have but it doesn’t matter now does it.” The words fell out of his mouth.

If John was expecting something to happen he would be disappointed. The rain continued to fall heavily and a slight cold breeze came in stirring the damp leaves. “Do you hear me,” John growled staring hard at the headstone hot tears coursing down his face, “Damn you Sherlock!” He huffed turning from the name.

Mary was feet from him looking on without a word.

 

They went back to Mary’s place. John couldn't handle seeing the flat that he had shared with Sherlock so Mary let him sleep over.

“Maybe I should move?” He suggested out loud the next morning.

Mary had a bagel in her mouth as she joined him on the couch still dressed in sleeping shorts and a tank. She chewed slowly looking over at him. “Do you think you’re ready for that? To live alone?” Mary asked after swallowing.

John shrugged. “I could get a flat mate,” He added she frowned.

“John think about it,” Mary said softly, “Yes it’s been a year but you’re just now accepting his death, do you really think moving out and getting a flat mate is a good idea?”

John sighed, her words were true.

“I just feel like I’m not going anywhere. I do the same things every day and it’s rather tedious.” He complained Mary brushed his hair out of his face smiling.

“I think tedious is a good look for you,” She teased.

John leaned into her laying his head on her shoulder “Tedious sucks! It gives me too much time to think.” He said.

Mary shifted putting her arm around him. “Then you need a hobby,” she told him.

“Yes like what? Gardening?” John joked.

Mary laughed glad that he seemed to going back to his old self after the day of agony. Though how could she tell what his old self was really like when she had only seen the side of him that was ‘the after Sherlock’ John.

“In the middle of winter I think you would have any easier time finding gremlins than anything to garden.” Mary shot back.

John’s head flew off her shoulder a grin locked on his features. “Now that is movie I have seen.” He said triumphantly.

Mary widened her eyes in mocking shook. “Then you must not by as much of a caveman then I thought oh wonderful, all-knowing, god man.” She laughed watching as he stuck his tongue out at her.

“Hard to miss a movie like that.” He countered settling back on her shoulder. They stayed like that most of the day, talking on and off but silly things.


	7. Vodka and Wiskey

A week later Mary had stopped by John’s flat to drop off some of his clothes. Just as she was leaving Mary very nearly toppled into a man at the door, “Excuse me.” She blushed noting the man was quiet handsome. Salted grey hair that didn’t age him but enhanced his already fantastic looks, deep brown eyes glimmered brightly in the dim of the stair case.

“No harm done,” He smiled looking around her, “is John home?” The man eyed her curiously.

“No he’s at work but he should be back after five.” Mary told him noting he looked familiar but she couldn’t place him.

“Can I ask who you are?” The man asked.

Mary snorted folding her arms across her chest and leaning against the door frame. “I could ask you the same question Mr. Macho.” She teased watching his smile grow.

“Greg Lestrade, old friend of John’s.” He replied throwing out a hand.

Mary took it “Mary, newish friend of John’s.” She said shaking the limb.

“Friend?” Greg asked with a waggle of his eyebrow.

Mary giggled “Yes, a friend.” She assured remembering who this man was, “You’re Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade.”

Lestrade nodded. “Right you are.”

“John’s told me about you. He and Sherlock used to take down criminals with you.” Mary said.

Greg’s eyes widened “He told you that, did he? Must be closer than a friend I think.” He winked.

She giggled again “You caught me,” Mary said, “I’m his best friend.”

Greg chuckled.

“You found him didn’t you,” Mary asked cautiously.

Lestrade nodded curtly, “Yea,” He sighed running his hand through his hair.

“Why don’t you come in?” She asked moving back into the flat realizing they were still standing in the doorway. He walked in and Mary shut the door. Turning she found Greg stopped staring at Sherlock’s chair. “Yea, John does that sometimes too.” Mary said coming up next to him.

“It still strange not to see him here,” Lestrade whispered.

She could almost imagine a slim man lounging in the chair. “I never had the pleasure but I think of everything I know about him I might as well have.” Mary told him quietly. They stared at it for a while.

Greg cleared his throat, “Why don’t I sit here.” He suggested gesturing towards the couch.

Mary nodded, “Seems the best choice.” She agreed.

They took a seat each on either side of the couch. “So how long have you and John knowing each other?” The D.I. asked lounging comfortably on the sofa.

Mary looked at him wondering just how much the man might know. She wasn’t going to come right out and tell him exactly what their relationship was since she wasn’t sure herself. “Let’s see,” She started thinking quickly, “It’s got to be pushing a little over a year now. It’s a shame we haven’t met yet.” She told him.

Lestrade grinned but it turned into a frown “I’m not surprised we haven’t met. John put a little blame on me for Sherlock’s…umm Fall so I haven’t seen him every much since.” The inspector said.

Mary nodded “Yea he didn’t seem very keen on seeing anyone from before. He is rather stubborn about that.” She chuckled.

“I even came to see him in the hospital when he tried…” Greg went to say but his voice faded.

Mary saw how distressed the man looked. “Well you’ll be happy to hear he is doing much better since then.” She said watching a smile grow on Greg’s face.

“And let me guess you had some part in that.” He laughed.

Mary winked “I can’t take all the credit but my spunky and heartwarming attitude may have played a part.” She joked.

Lestrade rolled his eyes. “I can see that,” he teased.

They fell into a short silence before Mary remembered why she had invited him in. "You found John after..." She started to say but her voice faded.

“Yea he was passed out on the bathroom floor, pills all over the place," Lestrade replied sighing heavily, "I hadn't heard from him since...the Fall...and frankly I was worried. The front door was unlocked so I came in. After seeing him in the bathroom, I phoned an ambulance and waited." Greg paused a look on his face told Mary he wanted to say more, "It is the waiting that always gets to me. I can't stand the waiting and not knowing, feeling helpless. All I could do was sit by and make sure he was still breathing." He voice fell away.

Greg's eyes focused on Sherlock's chair. "I can't help but feel like I owe John even if I didn't contribute to Sherlock's death. John was that man's best mate and at one point I felt like I was too but when they needed me on their side I ducked behind my badge. From there things went from bad to worse." He turned his eyes to Mary's brimming with held tears. "Every day I want to go back and fix it. Sherlock should be here, not rotting under the ground. It's too...normal." Lestrade raged Mary was taken aback by his reaction.

"Sherlock wasn't normal. He was too brilliant for that and just knowing he's six feet under I still find it hard to really believe. I can hear him now 'Gavin you're a disgrace to Detectives everywhere!' He of course would be cleverer than that. John is...he's suffering more than anyone and I hate it." Greg finished a single tear rolling from his eyes.

Mary's heart was heavy after hearing that. Here was another person touched by Sherlock and was utterly loved by, another person who was better off than John but would still feel the sting from Sherlock's departure.

Footsteps on the stairs drew their attention towards the door a second before John entered. He stopped stunned in the doorway his eyes first one Mary than on Greg.

The look darkened. “Get. Out!” John growled Mary stared at him with surprise.

Lestrade stood “It was nice to meet you Mary.” He said before passing John and he was gone.

Mary stared waiting John didn’t look at her. His fists were clenched, his whole body was tense. A compact bundle of flared nerves, “John,” She murmured slowly rising. His head snapped in her direction. John’s eyes looked hurt normally Mary would go to him and try to comfort but at this moment she knew it wouldn’t help. “John,” Mary tried again but John raised a hand stopping anything more.

“You had no right Mary! None!” John hissed.

Mary felt her stomach drop.

“Get out! Get out! Leave!”

Every word grew louder. His eyes flashing Mary locked her eyes refusing to cry. She remained standing rage radiating from the small doctor.

“Leave!” He yelled.

Mary flinched at the velocity of the vicious word.

John’s eyes widened with instant regret his body losing all fight. “Mary,” He spoke reaching out a hand towards her.

“No John I’m leaving,” Mary said a sob escaping. Hurrying passed him she was gone before John could collect himself enough to follow.

***

_He was upset!_

_He doesn’t need me any more…_

_He was just upset!_

Mary felt tightness in her chest making it painful to breath. She had never felt like this seeing John’s hard face in her mind and hearing his harsh words demanding her to leave. The cold rain drenched her almost completely mixing with the tears coursing down her face.

_I’ve ruined everything!_

Suddenly thoughts of Ryan invaded her mind. “No! Go away!” Mary pleaded her feet pounding the pavement as she fled. Drugged haze filled memories assaulted her mind.

“Slut!”

“Whore!”

She had heard those words more than not from the men that paid Ryan. Then came the times when Ryan would surprise her with presents. “You’ve been good so I got you something.” It sickened her.

Mary made it home. She rushed inside barely closing the door before running for the bathroom where she unloaded everything in her stomach.

“My pretty girl,” Ryan’s voice spoke causing Mary to wretch harder.

She had nothing left. She kneeled on the cold bathroom floor dry heaving.   

It was minutes until she was able to calm her rebelling stomach. Breathing heavily Mary slumped to her side the cold tiles pressing into her as Ryan’s voice echoed in her head.

“You are the world to me,” If she weren’t exhausted with an empty stomach she would be at the bowl again.

“Stop,” Mary moaned fresh tears escaping.

Ghost fingers touched her hair. “Babe it will never stop,” Ryan’s voice spoke and she could almost see that charming smile he always used on her.

Too tired to stand, Mary crawled from the bathroom for the kitchen. Under the sink she pulled out a large bottle of vodka; her drink of choice when she was truly upset. Taking the top of the bottle Mary threw it into the living room. She propped herself up against the cupboard and took a swig. Grimacing at the burn Mary didn’t wait long until dragging down another gulp.

After a little while she was only half through the bottle when the slight buzz was full on drunk, usually Mary was a cheerful drunk but she didn’t feel that way at the moment.

“First Ryan and now John,” she spoke to the air swallowing more vodka.

“Babe what’s wrong?” Ryan’s voice asked.

Mary chuckled dryly “You are a nutter,” she told him taking back more alcohol.

“I only did what I needed for us babe.” His voice argued in that sweet tone that would always break her down when she was mad.

“No!” Mary snapped, “Not this time! You have no more control over me!” She could see that disgustingly charming smile again.

“Are you sure about that babe?” His voice hissed.

Mary felt a sob escape she closed her eyes stinging. Tears rolling down her face “You can’t control me!” she muttered again keeping her eyes closed as she took another drink.

When she finished the vodka bottle Mary couldn’t feel her body any more. She just sat there with the empty bottle in her hand.

“Am I a good person?” She asked herself looking down at her hands.

“I try to be a good person,” Mary spoke to the flexing digits. “Is there something wrong with me?” She laughed breaking in with a sob.

“I’m nice, I’m polite, I’m funny sometimes, but does that matter? No I somehow always fuck it up!” Mary said crying in earnest now.

“Mary?” A quiet voice called Mary barely heard it.

“Now the voices are real,” She giggled tears still flowing down her face, “I have finally lost it,” Mary rolled the bottle away from her.

Watching it go she didn’t notice John in the doorway staring at her. “Mary,” He called.

Mary glanced at him but he was unfocused imagining him as Ryan than John. “Finally found me did you,” She sighed opening the cupboard beside her and groping blindly. Pulling out a small bottle of whiskey Mary popped the top “Oh that burns,” she hissed after taking a drink.

“Mary, stop,” Ryan/John said moving closer the world titling with the movement.

“No Ryan you stop,” Mary snapped and he did, “I already told you. You can’t control me anymore so don’t even give me that stupid charming smile, it won’t work.” She tipped her head back against the steady surface behind her and drank in the whiskey deeply. When the burn became intense Mary coughed spitting alcohol all over her still wet clothes. She sputtered and hands came out of nowhere, taking the bottle.

“Stop,” John spoke focusing in Mary’s vision.

He was very close to her face. “Ok so you stop talking to me in my head and decide to show up in person instead,” She told him watching confusion go over his features. “Oh wait you’re John *hiccup* not Ryan, wanker.” Mary giggled with a new sob.

John sighed sitting down on the floor. “Mary, how much have you drank?” He asked.

She glanced at the whiskey still in his hand and the vodka bottle on the other side of the kitchen. “Does it matter?” Mary answered with a shrug.

He glared and she thought of Sherlock. “It’s so sad,” Mary said starting crying fresh tears, “I cry every time I think about it.”

John looked at her “Think about what?” He asked.

Mary sagged further into the world. “Don’t act like you don’t know,” She said sobbing between words.

John’s face softened. “No I don’t Mary,” He told her.

Mary scooted forward pulling him into a hug, crying into his shoulder. She almost forgot what she was saying as she cried. Mary’s face was raw and stung with each tear.

John managed to comfort her enough to still the crying. “What makes you sad Mary?” he asked very interested.

Mary stared at him fighting to think. “You know when I first saw you I was curious to know your story. I wanted to be your sober companion so I could learn more about you.” She told him. John smiled softly “And when you first opened up to me about Sherlock,” His smile faded, “It broke my heart. You are a good man, John. You don’t deserve to fall in love like that and then have to watch that person die. It’s wrong! I hate that you had to go through that. Every time I think about him I cry knowing you will always have that in your head.”

Mary started crying again burying her head in her hands. “I didn’t know him and I wish I did because I know you and I would love to see that love you have for him in your eyes. The world will never get to see that! And that’s why I’m sad! Fate has a twisted sense of humor.” She told him her voice muffled by her hands. John was silent and that quiet bothered Mary.

Drawing her face form her hands Mary looked at him. Her drunken state made it hard for her to read his face but tears on his cheeks made her regret her words instantly. “Oh John I’m sorry please forgive me,” Mary pleaded hiccupping.

John gave her a weak smile squeezing her hand gently. “Let’s get you to bed,” He said looking the least bit upset.

“Ok but can I vomit first? Whisky doesn’t sit well with me after vodka.” She said watching as John stood the world swaying with him.

He chuckled. “I think we could do that,” He pulled Mary to her feet wrapping an arm around her waist to keep her standing.

Mary pressed her head to his chest John’s scent engulfed her. “You smell lovely but it makes me want to puke even more.” She told him feeling a laugh rumble through his chest.

Mary did indeed vomit for several minutes when she finished dry heaving John escorted her to bed. “Can’t have you sleeping in wet clothes, sit here,” He told her setting Mary down on a chair.

“Naughty Dr. Watson! Taking advantage of a defenseless drunken woman, how far you have come,” She joked hiccupping.

“Even as a drunk you don’t miss an opportunity.” John teased helping get her shoes off followed by socks, pants, and last shirt.

“What can I say? I’m an opportunist.” Mary shrugged feeling as his hands slid behind her back unclipping her bra. John was in doctor mode and wasn’t effective one bit by the exposed flesh.

“PJ’s are in the top dresser,” Mary told him snuggling into the chair with her eyes following the man.

He followed her instruction. “These aren’t nigh clothes. They’re giant shirts.” John said shuffling through the drawer.

“Just grab one,” She said as he pulled out a light green shirt and returned to her.

John pulled the clothing over her head helping feed her arms through the holes. “Now Miss Opportunist bed,” He said with a smile.

Getting her to her feet John mostly carried Mary over to the bed. Once she was in he pulled the covers to her chin. “Need anything?” He asked Mary’s eyes were closed and she was drifting not hearing anything.


	8. Too Good

John stayed by Mary’s side the whole night. Taking up the empty space next to her on the bed he didn’t sleep just sat thinking. He had let his anger out on Mary the only person who was there for him. Had he ruined their friendship because of his stupid outburst?

_She’s too good for me…_

John thought watching her as she slept. John had to suppress a laugh as he watched her. Mary was anything but poise when she slept. Her hair was a mound around her head. Her mouth hung open emanating soft snores, her pillow damp from droll.

_Will she forgive me?_

_Did you see her last night?_

_She’s a weepy drunk…_

The broken thoughts were giving him a headache. John sighed relaxing into the bed out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of sunlight coming over the buildings. Carefully John rolled off the bed pulling the curtains. With as much as Mary had consumed the night before a massive hang over was on the horizon. Glancing at her, John moved from the room into the kitchen clicking on the coffee maker than grabbing up a cup filling it with water.

From the room he heard a loud groan announcing Mary’s arrival to the world of the conscious. Heading back to the room John quietly set the glass on the side table before climbing carefully back into the bed.

“What happened last night?” Mary grumbled her voice muffle as she buried her head deeper into the pillow, “I feel like I was trampled by a herd of elephants.”

John couldn’t help but chuckle at that rubbing her back sympathetically “Well that’s what happens when you drink a bottle of vodka and half a bottle of whiskey,” he told her.

Mary’s head turned towards him, cracking an eye at him. “Why would I do that?” She whined, “I know whiskey doesn’t sit well after vodka.”

John shrugged “If it makes you feel better you did tell me that and you did vomit quite a bit,” He said.

Mary groaned again. “I bet that was very attractive,” She muttered, “Wait…I remember wearing wet clothes!” Mary stammered turning fully towards him, “Did you undress me?!” She questioned.

John gave her a reassuring smile “Mary I’m a doctor don’t worry. I didn’t want you getting sick.” He assured watching as she relaxed slowly back into the bed.

“Ouch!” Mary moaned grimacing, “So how much of a fool did I make myself?” She asked rubbing her forehead.

John shrugged. “Not much just thought I was Ryan and cried a lot.” He replied.

Mary made a face, “I’m usually a fun drunk.” She told him.

John felt guilt go through him. “You can blame your weepy drunkenness on me,” He spoke softly just as a pillow hit him in the face. He looked at Mary seeing a glare being thrown at him.

“I’m mad at you,” she grumbled half-heartedly, “I just forgot.”

John nodded “I deserved that and more.” He said.

Mary sighed “If I didn’t feel like death with skunk breath,” She paused hearing John’s quiet chuckle, “I would be really pissed at you but I can’t find the gumption right now so get back to me in a day or two.” Mary said with a small smile.

“You are too good for me,” John told her.

Mary winked “I know,” She said.

“Uggg…kill me now! Just put me out of my misery!” Mary complained putting her face back in the pillow.

John laughed rubbing her back. “Well there’s water there on the night stand. I started the coffee so you sit tight and I’ll get that for you.” He informed her as he crawled off the bed.

Pouring the coffee John spotted ibuprofen on the counter. Grabbing up the medicine and filled coffee mug, John returned to the bedroom. The water cup was mostly empty and Mary had moving to sitting against the headboard. Handing her the cup John opened the pill bottle shaking a couple into his hand. “Take these and drink lots of water,” he order whipping out his doctor voice.

Mary eyed him as she sipped her coffee “Yes sir Dr. Watson sir,” She said as she took the small pills from him,

“Smartarse.” John teased heading back into the kitchen. Getting himself some coffee John returned to his spot on the bed. The two stayed there most of the day talking in between naps and eating snacks.


	9. Walking Corpse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suicide attempt.

“This place is much too fancy!” Mary repeated as they sat at the white clothed small round table.

“Well I have to take every opportunity I can to torture you,” John teased sitting down across from her.

Over two years since John’s overdoes, over two years since Sherlock’s Fall and here they were. John and Mary had reservations at the best restaurant in London. It was named something in French that wasn’t easily pronounced. A place you needed to be someone to even get on the list.

“How did you get us in here at such short notice anyway?” Mary asked eyeing the short doctor across from her.

John smiled under that god awful mustache that he kept around just to annoy her. “Sherlock helped the owner out.” He replied raising more questions in the petite blonde then not.

“What exactly did he help them with?” She couldn’t help but ask, loving John’s stories.

“Sherlock said he helped him put up some shelf.” He answered Mary giggled.

“I still can’t believe you dragged me to that dreadful movie,” John whined yet again.

Mary sighed smiling. “It really wasn’t as bad as you think,” She countered, he snorted picking up the menu.

“Don’t lie you’re just trying to keep face. I know you too well.” John said peaking around the menu as he read.

“Sir,” S waiter spoke in a thick French accent. Neither of the occupants looked up from their menus.

“Yea can we get the best wine you have,” John said.

Mary dropped her menu looking directly at his hidden face peeking from the menu. “John! Don’t you dare!” She hissed, “You know what wine does to me. We don’t want a repeat.” John lowered his menu waggling his eyebrows.

“What kind of whine are you craving? Something familiar? Something that reminds you of an old friend?” the waiter asked.

John waved his hand at the man keeping his eyes on Mary. “Sounds great,” He answered as a dismissal.

“You bastard,” Mary growled.

John smirked. “I love it when you call me names,” He said as they broke into a laugh.

“God I still can’t believe it,” Mary said sitting back in her seat, “Two years with your sorry arse.”

John smiled “I don’t know how you do it,” They laughed again. “Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?” He asked Mary rolled her eyes.

She was actually quiet stunning wearing a long sleeveless lavender dress. “Like me when I’m dolled up, do you?” Mary joked.

John grinned. “It’s not every day you look like a really woman.” He told her.

Mary snorted. “Yes, because I’m a bloody caveman every other day of the year.”

Glancing over the menu again, “Hey you said it not me.” He pointed out.

Mary looked at him. “When you put it that way then you look rather splendid yourself.” She said nodding at the suit that fit him nicely.

“Don’t tell me you’ve become sentimental,” John teased.

Mary stuck her tongue out. “Merely pointing out the obvious, don’t read too much into it,” She assured.

“Sir your wine,” The waiter had returned, “This one is a personal favorite a bit stubborn at first but sweetens as it grows on you.”

John smiled over at Mary as he turned his eyes to the waiter. Instantly the smile dropped replaced by one of horror and astonishment.

“John?” Mary asked concerned.

 Looking at the waiter and receiving her own shock. The tall, slim man with ivory skin and raven curls stood before them. Moon colored eyes stared at John a small delighted smile under a fake eyeliner mustache.

“As you can see long story short, not dead,” The man said the French accent fading into a very British baritone as John continued to stare.

The doctor slowly stood Mary rose with him not sure how he might react.

“John,” She spoke quietly knowing he wouldn’t hear her.

John’s face contorted into several different emotions that Mary couldn’t read clearly, stopping on one she knew instantly.

“John!” She cried moving around the table just as he turned, flipping the thing.

The shattering of glass and wood drew every eye to them.

“John breathe, just breathe,” Mary coaxed as John gasped for breath his eyes still on Sherlock. She came up placing her hands gently on his arm John flinched away violently.

“DON’T TOUCH ME!” He roared his eyes burned in her direction and he ran.

Sherlock and Mary stood watching in shock. “John!” She shouted after him but he was out of the building by then.

“Not exactly what I was expecting,” Sherlock muttered.

Mary felt her own rage flare up. “What the fuck did you expect?!” She snapped drawing to her full height though it made little difference her hair just tickled his chin. Sherlock looked at Mary as if seeing her for the first time. “Did you think this would be some happy fucking reunion? Well newsflash! You are a fucking prat, arse…bastard!” She spat fumbling through her fury. “You have no idea what you have done!” Mary threw at him before running after John.

Out on the street she knew he was long gone but where would he go?

_221B? No definitely not._

_Especially not now…_

_Harry’s? Doubt it…_

Mary ran through several different places as she dialed his number on her mobile. He didn’t answer but she kept redialing each time without any progress.

“He left it,” Sherlock’s voice said.

Mary turned phone still to her ear as the voicemail beeped. Sherlock was behind her holding the device in hand. Lowering her own Mary pocketed it stanching up John’s and slid it to join hers making the exquisite dress bulge. “Thank you but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re a soulless git,” She snapped Sherlock pursed his lips his eyes wondering over her doing his famous deducing she assumed.

“Girlfriend?” He asked.

Mary blinked at him confused. “Excuse me?” She asked.

Sherlock sighed. “Are you John’s girlfriend?” He clarified.

Mary gaped at him. “You are an egotistical deducing machine figure it out yourself! I don’t have time to be flapping my jaw with you I have to find John before he does something incredibly stupid.” Putting two fingers in her mouth Mary whistled, waving her hand above her head. A cab nearly ran into her in its haste, she jumped in and began her search.

 

It was nearly three when Mary found her way home. Her dress ruined covered in dirt and garbage and anything else London had to offer. She had been everywhere in the city, anywhere John and her had ever been, everywhere he had ever mentioned but there was no sign. She was tense with worry and would have stayed out longer looking if she knew where else to look. Desperate and on the verge of total collapse, Mary opted to try her own flat being it was the only place she hadn’t check though she doubt it would be where she would find him.

How wrong she was.

After paying her cabbie, Mary exited the car listening as it hurried away down the empty street. Moving for the door she saw her front was open slightly. Mary paused, her heart rate skyrocketing with fear but it quickly turned to hope. “John!” She called running inside not bothering to shut the door behind her. The living room was empty when Mary flicked on the lights as was the kitchen. “John!” She shouted desperately hurrying for her room. The door was shut which was unusual but Mary barely noted that fact as she throw the door open.

She froze in the doorway John was sitting on the edge of her bed suit jacket thrown on the bed behind him. His white shirt hung open showing off the compact flesh. John was hunched over with his arms resting on his thighs. In his left hand he held a gun, Mary stared at it. “John,” She spoke softly he didn’t look at her didn’t even acknowledge her presence. “John,” She tried again taking a step forward eyeing the gun wearily.

“Stop there,” John croaked turning his head slightly.

His face was a ruin, red and puffy from tears that flowed from his eyes. Mary halted cold running through her. “Please John,” She whimpered his eyes widening slightly.

“Am I crazy Mary?” John asked in a broken voice.

Mary swallowed back the lump in her throat. “No John you aren’t,” She replied.

John’s hand tightened on the gun. “Then why am I seeing corpses?” He asked.

Mary’s breath hitched in her throat. “He’s not a corpse John,” She whispered feeling a rising panic envelope her, “He’s alive John, he never died.”

John turned his head closing his eyes tightly bringing his hands to his head including the gun.

“John! Don’t!” Mary screamed sobs cracking her voice she leaned into the doorframe for support.

John pressed the gun to his temple while rubbing his face with his free hand, “Two years Mary, two fucking years!” He cried tears dripping from his face. Mary could only sob in the doorway, “Everyday my heart broke knowing he was dead and never coming back! Now I know my heart broke every day for someone who is very much alive!” John shouted dropping his free hand pressing the gun harder into his head.

“John please, please, don’t, please!” Mary pleaded falling to the floor her vision blurred as she tried to keep her eyes on her best friend. The man she had come to love, more than anything in the world. There were no words to explain what she was feeling, nothing could compare to the pain she felt overwhelming her. “John, don’t please!” She sobbed weakly wanting the terrible moment to end.

John growled shaking before pulling the gun from his head and pointing it at her dresser. The loud gunshot made Mary scream ducking her head afraid what she might see.

Crumpled on the floor, Mary continued to sob fearing the worse when arms wrapped around her. “Mary,” John whispered burying his face in her back while she clutched at him.

The relief she felt made her sob harder. “John you stupid part,” Mary cried holding him closer pressing her head into his chest.

They remained like that for some time Mary didn’t want to let go after what had just almost taken place. “I’m done Mary,” John whispered stroking her hair.

She panicked digging her hands harder into him. “No! Please John! John, don’t!” Mary cried feeling him stiffen.

“No, I mean I’m over my suicide urge,” John clarified though it did little to satisfy her.

“You are a fucking arse!” Mary snarled pulling back to look at his face.

John looked at her. She saw how raw he was even the slightest words chaffed. “I know,” He grimaced Mary felt her tension soften she sighed.

“I’m glad you didn’t do it if that makes you feel better,” She added. Her words had the exact reaction she was hoping for John relaxed his form sagging into exhaustion.

“Let’s get you to bed,” Mary said spotting the gun on the floor but standing. Her legs were a bit numb from the shock she was still getting over so she leaned into the doorframe.

John stood next to her concerned “Are you alright?” He asked putting an arm around her waist.

Mary shot a glare at him. “Did you not just try to blow your brain out in my bedroom? Of course I’m not alright!” She snapped automatically. John lowered his eyes and Mary softened again. “Bed now,” She said not wanting her anger to flare up again.

John obeyed leaving Mary in the doorway. He lay down on top of the covers curling his body into a ball keeping his eyes on Mary the whole time. When she was satisfied Mary moved over to her dresser now sporting a new hole in the top drawer. Unzipping her dress Mary let it fall to the floor leaving her mostly naked. Quickly grabbing a night shirt she pulled it on. Moving to get into bed Mary’ foot touched the gun. The fierce cool of the weapon burned Mary stepped back looking down at the terror.

Glancing at John she noted he was asleep. Her eyes back on the gun Mary slowly pushed it under the bed out of sight decided to deal with it in the morning when she wasn’t so absolutely physically and emotionally drained after the night. Crawling into the bed Mary took up her side gratefully stretching out all the tense worry.

How had a silly anniversary night turn in to a nightmare? And was life going to change now that Sherlock was resurrected? Mary sighed everything that needed to dealt with could wait until morning when this night was finally over. Rolling over Mary turned towards John’s back.

_What would I do without you?_

She thought as her brain started to fuzzy out as she fell towards sleep. That was a question Mary never wanted to have answered. John was too much a part of her life and if that changed Mary would be lost. Even in the mites of the horrifying events of the evening, Mary couldn’t help but feel a burning joy knowing that Sherlock was indeed alive. John’s love, the one that could truly save John was back. Now the question was could John forgive after so long? Mary yawned falling closer to unconsciousness. “I hope he does,” She whispered to the darkness. She truly did want John to be happy and hoped one day he would forgive Sherlock. Seconds later Mary was deeply asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoyed writing this chapter and it came out as I hoped. Reviews would be lovely.


	10. Understanding

_John, my John!_

Sherlock’s heart nearly burst seeing the man, his doctor sitting in the restaurant. To him John looked the same expect for a very irritating mustache that aged him ten years.

_That will have to go. I need my doctor clean shaven._

Sherlock watched the man for a moment debating how he should present himself. Two years was a long while and it may be a bit of a shock so a direct revealing would be unwise. Sherlock decided on a latter idea. Make his appearance a surprise let John come to the conclusion for himself.

_He will appreciate the effort…_

Sherlock told himself as he tied a bowtie to his shirt blending in with the waiters. Walking past a few tables he snatched up a pair of glasses to further change his appearance, and eyeliner to add his own mustache. When Sherlock deemed his disguise presentable he made his way to the table envisioning the different ways John would welcome him back.

“Sir,” Sherlock started adding a last minute French accent hoping that would draw the doctor’s attention.

 John didn’t look; his eyes continued wondering down the menu. “Yea can we get the best wine you have,” He said a smile spreading across his face. Sherlock kept his eyes on the other man ignoring the other across from him.

“John! Don’t you dare!” The person hissed, “You know what wine does to me. We don’t want a repeat.”

John lowered his menu waggling his eyebrows. Sherlock was stunned.

_He didn’t even look!_

_Nothing!_

_Well we’ll have to try this again._

Sherlock dropped back from the table noting his presence wasn’t missed. John continued talking with the person across from him but Sherlock gave them no mind his eyes targeting the doctor. John laughed and Sherlock glared.

_That laugh is for me!_

_Or it should be!_

Giving them a few more minutes, Sherlock slipped a cool bottle of wine from the bar and headed back to the table.

“Don’t tell me you’ve become sentimental,” John teased as Sherlock caught the end of the conversation. He smiled that sounded like something he would have said listening as the other person commented.

“Merely pointing out the obvious, don’t read too much into it,” They assured.

“Sir your wine,” Sherlock stated feeling this would be the moment John would turn and see him, “This one is a personal favorite a bit stubborn at first but sweetens as it grows on you.”

Sherlock watched seeing John smile to the person across from him before turning to look. Their eyes met and John’s smile faded. Sherlock waited for the excitement, for the lecture, for the…well just anything that would tell him that the doctor hadn’t forgotten him. Sherlock waited his eyes drifting over his friend.

_Lost some weight since we last met but happy, happy?_

Sherlock stiffened at that, Happy? He was expecting misery not that he wanted that from his friend but he wanted a slight bit more drama. “As you can see long story short, not dead,” Sherlock told him smiling. He was here, back with his John! The doctor slowly stood as did the other person. “John,” they spoke quietly.

John’s face contorted into several different emotions Sherlock caught them all, anger, fear, bewilderment, sadness, excitement, betrayal, love, and lastly rage. Sherlock blinked just missing the table being turned over.

The person John had been dining with was now by the doctor’s side speaking quietly. “John breathe, just breathe,” They tried but John was focused on Sherlock.

The emotion going through the doctor’s compact body confused Sherlock. He didn’t know what he should be doing. The other person took initiative placing hands on John’s arm he flinched away violently. “DON’T TOUCH ME!” He roared, his burning eyes looking away from Sherlock before John ran.

Sherlock was stunned John had run! Ran from him! He could see the man fleeing. “Not exactly what I was expecting,” Sherlock muttered disappointed. He had never expected John to leave.

“What the fuck did you expect?!” The person John had been dinning with was suddenly close to Sherlock’s face. He was bewildered. This short woman was a ball of fury that reminded him so much of John. She was blonde, with flashing brown eyes, and an elegant lavender dress that Sherlock approved of.

Her mouth was moving but he caught only a few words, “fucking prat, arse…bastard!” Sherlock blinked surprised by the change in events. The woman’s eyes filled with worry and sadness. “You have no idea what you have done!” She threw at him before running after John. Sherlock watched her go not knowing what to do.

This was not what was supposed to happen. John was supposed to be happy that Sherlock was back not running like this and the woman who was she? Was she John’s new interest? Sherlock scoffed. Love, sentiment, ludicrous notions! The thought of John having someone new in his life gave Sherlock a tight feeling.

_John?_

Sherlock felt truly alone at that moment. What was he to do now that his best friend was running from him? A constant ringing off to his right stopped any further thought. Looking over Sherlock spotted a phone on the ground amongst the broken wood.

_John’s phone!_

Sherlock knew that device anywhere and it warmed him to know that after all this time John still had it. Picking it up Sherlock read the name:

**Mary**

Holding the mobile gingerly Sherlock headed out of the building as it began ringing again. The woman was nearby a phone pressed to her ear. “He left it,” Sherlock told her.

The woman, Mary, turned towards him as he held out the device for her. Mary eyed him pocketing her phone before taking John’s, “Thank you but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re a soulless git,” She snapped Sherlock pursed his lips his eyes wondering over her, deducing her.

_Ex-addict, heroine, abusive relationship, one…no three years ago, happy, worried, love. Early thirties. John’s…Girlfriend?_

“Girlfriend?” Sherlock asked out loud.

Mary blinked at him confused. “Excuse me?” She asked.

Sherlock sighed, “Are you John’s girlfriend?” He clarified.

Mary gaped at him. “You are an egotistical deducing machine figure it out yourself!” Sherlock grumbled as she continued, “I don’t have time to be flapping my jaw with you I have to find John before he does something incredibly stupid.” Putting two fingers in her mouth Mary whistled, waving her hand above her head.

Sherlock remained standing there watching her go before deciding to follow her. He followed her from one place to the next almost growing bored with waiting before they were off again.

_What were all these places? Places John might go? Places John had been with her?_

Most of the places she went Sherlock had never been to and couldn’t see John going. In the wee hours of the morning Sherlock followed Mary to a flat that must have been hers. Paying his cab Sherlock released the man and watched Mary stopped before her flat. He had watched her climbing over fences, walls, through windows, and down alleys all night Mary’s dress was a disaster. Sherlock kept his distance watching her. She went in leaving the front open in her hurry to get inside shouting; “John!” on her way in.

Giving it a moment Sherlock pushed forward slowly making his way towards the door. Slipping inside he shut the door behind him quietly. The living room was lit but sounds from the kitchen drew Sherlock further into the flat. Peeking into the kitchen he spotted Mary’s back to him facing inside what must have been a bedroom. Looking further Sherlock saw an open bathroom closer to the room. Carefully Sherlock slithered forward ducking into the bathroom so as to hear what was going on.

“Am I crazy Mary?” John’s voice asked in a broken voice alerting Sherlock.

“No John you aren’t,” Mary answered her voice almost a whisper.

Sherlock leaned closer to the conversation not wanting to miss anything.

“Then why am I seeing corpses?” John asked Sherlock felt ice run through him knowing instantly they were talking about him.

Mary’s breath hitched before she spoke “He’s not a corpse John,” she whispered, “He’s alive. John, he never died.”

Sherlock fought the urge to go to John.

“John! Don’t!” Mary suddenly screamed sobs cracking her voice.

Sherlock strained to understand what was going on. “Two years Mary! Two fucking years!” John cried Sherlock almost hear the tears on his doctor’s face. Sherlock listened as Mary sobbed in the doorway, “Everyday my heart broke knowing he was dead and never coming back! Now I know my heart broke every day for someone who is very much alive!” John shouted Sherlock’s heart stopped.

_John?!_

“John please, please, don’t, please!” Mary pleaded Sherlock heard her body hit the floor.

Sherlock felt stinging tears threatening in his eyes as he listened. The quiet surrounding the moment was only broken by the sobs coming from Mary

“John don’t please!” She sobbed weakly.

Tears were now rolling down Sherlock’s face as he came to an understanding. He did this! Whatever was happening in the other room was his fault! John had trusted him, loved him and now the man was about to do something drastic. A loud gunshot followed by Mary screaming startled Sherlock.

He was frozen. For the first time in his life his brain had nothing.

_John…_

Sherlock felt an overwhelming amount of pain tightening his chest.

_John was…he was…_

He mind couldn’t function. For two years Sherlock had been hunting down Moriarty’s organization to protect John and now…

“Mary,” John’s voice whispered sending relief shooting through Sherlock.

He almost went to John but forced himself to remain hidden. Sherlock knew that at that moment his presence would not be appreciated one bit.

Mary’s sob grew louder. “John you stupid prat,” She cried her voice sounded muffled. John must be holding her Sherlock thought a sudden urge to be included wash through him.

_Stop it!_

Sherlock snapped wiping tears from his face fiercely. John was alright for now but he had tried to kill himself all because Sherlock had come back.

_I should have stayed away…_

Sherlock sighed hating the thought but agreeing with it on some level. He had expected John to have some kind of reaction of anger but not as extreme as this. This was a whole other level Sherlock didn’t understand. He almost missed the next words as he pulled himself away from his thoughts to listen.

“I’m done Mary,” John whispered Sherlock bit the inside of his cheek to keep quiet.

“No! Please John! John don’t!” Mary’s pitiful cries brought fresh tears to Sherlock’s eyes.

“No I mean I’m over my suicide urge,” John clarified Sherlock sighed heavily hoping he would never have to go through a situation like this again.

“You are a fucking arse!” Mary snarled and Sherlock bristled a bit.

_No! I’m the arse…_

He mental corrected her. “I know,” John spoke softly Sherlock craved to see his face but opted to just be content that the man was still alive.

“I’m glad you didn’t do it if that makes you feel better,” Mary’s voice and Sherlock couldn’t help but find himself glad that she was there. A silence fell and Sherlock pressed himself closer to the bathroom wall waiting for something to happen.

“Let’s get you to bed,” Mary said and Sherlock listened as they stood from where they had been on the floor.

“Are you alright?” John asked. Sherlock grimaced preparing for Mary’s retort.

“Did you not just try to blow your brain out in my bedroom? Of course I’m not alright!” Sherlock sighed relieved that the situation was over for the time being. Any further conversation from the other room was lost to Sherlock as he dove into his mind palace.

It had change it no longer had multiple wings and rooms now it only had two wings. One for Moriarty and the other solely devoted to John. Sherlock strolled around organizing what he had heard into a box or stuff he never wanted to hear from John again. Images of John swam around Sherlock and he left the palace wanting to see the real thing.

Standing up Sherlock hadn’t noticed he had fallen to the floor during the terrible thing. His back protested but quickly faded as Sherlock stretched quickly. He paused listening, the flat was completely silent and Sherlock deemed it safe enough to move. Creeping from the bathroom Sherlock switched the kitchen lights off before moving closer to the bedroom.

John was on the bed facing him. His body curled in a tight ball still dressed in dress pants and an open white button up. The mustache was gone Sherlock noted looking the man over. Even in his sleep Sherlock could see the pain lingering in John’s body. The compact bundle was so tense Sherlock clenched his fists hating himself even more for this misery he had created. Sherlock glanced over spotting Mary on the bed next to John facing him.

John deserved her. He deserved all the happiness Mary could give him. Sherlock sighed resisting the urge to touch his doctor…

_No…not mine…_

_I lost that privilege when I broke his heart…_

Sherlock had never had so much clarity to the human emotion until that moment. John was a light in the gloom of the younger man’s life. Sherlock would give the man up in a moment so that the kindly doctor could have a life of safety and love something Sherlock knew he couldn’t give him. Sherlock debated leaving the country again.

_No…no that would make it worse…_

_You have to fix this, at least get his side of things before you leave again. See what John wants for once…_

Sherlock stood a moment longer watching the greying man slumber again relieved how the night had ended instead of the latter. Reaching out a hand Sherlock hovered his pale palm over the doctor’s face wanting to touch the skin but something was holding him back. Slowly Sherlock drew it back looking over the two one more time before turning and strolling out of the room. Turning lights off as he went Sherlock disappeared into the darkness.


	11. Helping Hand

_A week, it’s been a whole week…and nothing?_

Mary was as her wits end, her nerves so fried from worrying over John she hadn’t slept properly in days with her body being on constant alert.

_He wouldn’t even talk about!_

Mary was frustrated by John’s silent struggle that he tried very hard to hide. She knew he was only trying to appear strong so she wouldn’t worry.

The day after Sherlock’s reappearance had been a quiet day. They stayed inside Mary’s room most of the day with only frequent trips to the bathroom. They didn’t talk about John’s breakdown but it left a tense bubble in the room that no one could get past.

Since then John was now sleeping on Mary’s couch no matter how many times she suggested he take the bed. He stubbornly kept the illusion of being alright, even though Mary knew better.

_Stupid git!_

Mary scoffed fondly thinking about her little soldier. She sighed as her cab pulled up to the curb outside her flat. Paying the driver she climbed out grabbing up the shopping and headed for her door.

Balancing the bags onto one arm Mary was able to unlock the door without dropping anything. Using her elbow Mary shut the door nudging the deadbolt into place. Humming quietly to herself she took advantage to try and calm her nerves with the quiet of the flat.

John was at the clinic today attempting to have a bit of normalcy to his chaotic life. Mary was proud his was trying but she still wished he would just open up her. Sighing she pushed her thoughts away, Mary focused on her surprise dinner that she was planning for John.

She was going to make his favorite pasta with a little chicken and garlic sauce. Mary giggled to herself thinking about how he might react seeing her cooking for him.

Mary set the bags down in the kitchen, unloading them on the counter. Moving around the kitchen she pulled out several pans, planning out she would go about starting the meal.

The sound of the front door shutting caught Mary off guard. She froze thinking quickly.

_Not John, he would have texted!_

_What do I do? Gun…_

Hurrying Mary dove onto the floor next to her bed, fumbling blindly under the mattress, her fingers wrapped around the hateful thing. Looking it over Mary check to see if the safety was off before pushing herself to her feet, silently Mary crept to the doorway. Peeking into the kitchen her eyes scanned the area but came up empty. Waiting a moment Mary listened intently starting to doubt that she had even heard anything. A quiet shuffle confirmed her first thoughts.

Very skillfully Mary eased her way into the kitchen, holding the gun in an experienced way. She made her way towards the living room. Pausing she gathered herself before stepping into the room. Expecting an intruder, Mary swept the room gun held out in front of her.

The room was empty! She lowered her gun slightly, Mary looked around confused. The gun sank lower, almost fully to her side when a squeak behind Mary alerted her. Swinging around, she pistol whipped the presence sending them flying into the kitchen table in the center of the room.

Leveling the gun Mary was slightly surprised to find Sherlock leaning into the table cupping his bleeding lip, looking at her with intense interest. “What are you doing in here?” she snapped letting her eyes drift over him. The tall man didn’t answer for a moment as he pulled his hand from his face to examine the blood “I didn’t mean to startle you,” Sherlock spoke slowly his eyes darting between the gun and Mary’s face.

She didn’t lower the gun, keeping it aimed at Sherlock’s head “What do you want?” Mary asked.

Sherlock only stood straight stuffing his hands into his pockets. Feeling the threat passing Mary sighed heavily dropping the gun to her side “Let’s get that cleaned up,” she offered. Mary wanted to hate the man and a small part of her did, but she wanted John to be happy much more. The only way John could be truly happy was with this arse of a man.

Moving pasted Sherlock towards the bathroom, Mary had the satisfaction of watching him flinch, expecting another hit from her. Suppressing a giggle she hunted under the bathroom sink until she found the first aid kit, leaving the gun on the bathroom counter she moved back into the kitchen.

“Sit,” Mary commanded gesturing to a chair nearby. Watching her intently Sherlock obeyed, lowering his lanky frame into the seat. Moving closer Mary began cleaning the cut on Sherlock’s lip. It was a shallow thing, which would have a worse looking bruise more than anything.

“So why are you here exactly?” Mary asked hoping her gentler tone would get a response from him.

Sherlock eyed Mary as she worked waiting for her to finish before speaking “I was hoping I might get your help,” he replied. Surprised Mary gripped the cloth she was holding tightly “My help? Help for what?” she asked releasing her tight hold on the cloth a bit.

Sherlock looked suddenly nervous and guilt ridden “With John,” he murmured.

“No,” Mary replied automatically, walking away with the cloth to toss it into the laundry basket in her room.

“I do not know what to do,” Sherlock cried following after her.

“Then you should have thought about that before you jumped off that building,” Mary told him trying to keep the emotion from her voice as she turned back to him.

Sherlock stood above her, looking down through the ebony curls “He would have died,” he whispered.

Mary folded her arms across her chest, hiding the shiver that ran through her.

“If I hadn’t jumped John would have died…and…he didn’t deserve that.” Sherlock spoke his voice cracking slightly.

Mary froze, watching the emotions swirling through the moon lit eyes staring at her.

“You love him!”

Sherlock bit his lip, eyes darting away quickly. Mary smiled before releasing a laugh “I knew it!” she sang hopping on the balls of her feet. Sherlock glared, pursing his lips “I would very appreciate if you stopped that now.”

Reluctantly Mary stopped, settling on to her toes to bring herself a little closer to Sherlock’s face. “The things John told me about you and the things I’ve read. I just knew that you weren’t a ‘sociopath’ like you claimed to be.” She said quickly.

“High functioning sociopath,” Sherlock corrected, “and how would second person fairy tales give you that ridiculous conclusion?” he questioned.

Mary shook her head leaning back on to her heels “It wasn’t just those ‘fairy tales’ as you put it but at the restaurant when John looked at you…it was the way your eyes lit up.”

“My eyes did nothing of the sort!” Sherlock growled.

Mary smirked “From where I was standing they did you prat,”

Sherlock grumbled but didn’t argue further “So will you help me?” he asked fixing his eyes on her again.

Mary bit her lip, thinking quickly. All her thoughts screamed at her this was a bad idea, that it was between John and Sherlock.

_I should keep my attention on John, not Sherlock. John needs me right now and I should do that._

“Do you even know what John has gone through since you left?” Mary asked, wondering if he truly had heard what John had been doing.

Sherlock looked even more shamefully “I asked my brother to keep an eye on John but he of course didn’t.” the tall man muttered.

Mary pursed her lips, having heard about the infamous Mycroft Holmes. She knew that Sherlock had been pressing his luck on that aspect.

“John tried to kill himself a month after your death,” she told him bluntly.

Sherlock stared at her, his features slowly morphing into shock. Suddenly he teetered on his feet looking like he was about to fall over.

Mary’s hands shot out grabbing his arm “Sit down,” she ordered pushing him towards her bed, forcing him to sit. Sherlock looked dazed. His eyes now stared off in the distant.

“Sherlock?”

He was unresponsive as he continued burning holes off in the direction of the kitchen “Sherlock?” Mary tired again, on the verge of going to get a bucket of water.

Slowly Sherlock’s eyes drifted to hers “John…John tried to kill himself because of me,” it wasn’t a question but Mary nodded as a confirmation.

“Overdosed on sleeping pills,” she told him, “met him at a sobriety meeting a week later. We’ve been friends ever since. I know John better than anyone else and I will be damned before I let you hurt him again.” Mary snapped glaring at the man. Looking in to his lunar orbs she couldn’t help but soften a bit knowing how much this man meant to John.

“But I will try to persuade John to at least listen to you,” Mary spoke softly, “I’m not promising anything,” she added quickly seeing the excitement growing in Sherlock’s eyes.

“Thank you,” he said, holding back his emotions, “that’s all that I can ask of you.” Mary smiled knowing that Sherlock didn’t usually thank anyone.

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Mary warned, “John has a soft heart but you broke it so I don’t know that I could even get him to talk to you, it may take some time so I think you should keep your distance until he comes to you.”

Sherlock nodded “I don’t want to hurt him again,” his voice sounded like that of a child’s.

Mary let out a heavy breath “And I hope you don’t.”


	12. Emotional Torture

John sighed it had been a long two weeks, first Sherlock’s reincarnation and then John’s attempt at going on with his menial life, silly. The doctor was trying for mundane, normal but his addiction to danger was getting the better of him. John knew he was sick and not physically, he was mentally sick.

Seeing Sherlock had been a shock, the shock of a life time, it seemed John had gotten the miracle he had asked for so long ago. Yes he was happy his friend was alive but he felt so utterly betrayed and raw.

When he had fled from the restaurant John had no ideas what he was doing or where he was going, he just wanted to breathe. Going to Mary’s flat seemed like the best place, a few hours of alone time but on his way there John had another thought.

His gun, that thing that he only used in emergencies, the weapon he never intended to use again but was calling his name. John barely hesitated when he found his way into the familiar flat and into his room. He knew where the gun was, where it always had been. Retrieving it the doctor had slipped it into the waistband of his trousers before escaping into a waiting cab.

John didn’t want to use it but he didn’t really know why he had wanted it in the first place. The pain he felt was so great that his thoughts were blurred and incoherent. The gun’s cool plastic handle felt good against his skin. It was an anchor to the reality that Sherlock Holmes, his best friend, flat mate, and love of his life was not dead, the least from dead anyone could be. Every time his thoughts drifted to that fact John felt a sharp pain rip through him opening up more raw flesh.

Making it to Mary’s flat, John stood in the living room looking around feeling lost. It was the same, familiar and cozy as a home should be. He felt safe here, much safer than anywhere he had lived in the past few years. This place was Mary, Mary equaled safety and warmth. Dwelling on that John retreated to her bedroom. Her scent was everywhere and helped his raging emotions a bit.

Pulling off the constricting suit jacket John set it on the bed before joining it. Taking a deep breath he unbuttoned his shirt with shaking hands.

_Sherlock’s alive!_

Those words kept chanting in his head. It was gleeful but would turn into rage before moving on to painful. John was wincing feeling the fresh agony that burned his very soul.

_He never fell…he never died…_

_He left me alone…_

John felt sick. His vision blurred and tears started down his face. John’s self-control was gone. The emotions that went through him were torture. His hand moved automatically, drawing the gun from his waistband into his hand and within his sight.

Seeing it John remembered the first time he had fired it to save Sherlock’s life. It was that mad cabbie, the one that had led to Moriarty. That insane Irish psychopath with the disgusting fascination with Sherlock who led to the Fall…that ended with the internal death of Doctor John Watson.

“He’s alive, he never died.”

He had to say those words aloud but even then they sounded fake, unreal, hollow. Gripping the gun tightly John focused on the gun looking over the details that were already etched in his mind.

_You could end it, you could stop the pain._

John froze at that. Death, sounded so appealing, a sweet release without pain or suffering, without the knowledge that Sherlock would rather play dead than be by his side. John’s eyes wandered over the plastic again seeing it in a new light. Would it be that easy?  A quick pull of the trigger, a deafening bang, and nothing…John’s fingers tightened, whitening his knuckles.

 “John,”

Mary’s voice broke in. It was soft and pleading. John didn’t need to look at her to know she was looking at him and the gun. She wasn’t supposed to be here, she wasn’t supposed to see him like this. Mary had gone through so much more than he had, he should be the strong one.

 “John,” his name on her lips was shaky.

“Stop there,” John croaked turning his head slightly.

Mary was in the doorway, she was just slightly in the doorway, eyes fixed on him. John could read the terror in her body, it was ridged.

“Please John,” she whimpered. John was surprised by those words, Mary was so pure and innocent even with everything she had ever gone through. It broke John’s heart further hearing the suffering in her voice.

“Am I crazy Mary?” John asked in a broken voice. He had to be a little insane, in some sense of the word or another. The thrill coursing through him just from holding the gun was intoxicating. The danger and prospect of just a simple pull of the trigger was inviting even if it would be a moment of pleasure.

“No John you aren’t,” her reply was soft.

John’s hand tightened on the gun. “Then why am I seeing corpses?” he asked Mary’s breath hitched in her throat.

“He’s not a corpse John,” she whispered, “He’s alive John, he never died.”

That’s all he needed, those words were the confirmation that finally made the truth sink in. Sherlock was alive and Mary as a witness could verify. John turned his head closing his eyes tightly bringing his hands to his head including the gun.

“John! Don’t!” Mary screamed sobs cracking her voice.

John couldn’t hear her. The white noise was growing in his ears, drowning out other sounds. The plastic against his head took all his focus, every ounce of concentration. John pressed the gun to his temple while rubbing his face with his free hand.

“Two years Mary! Two fucking years!” he cried tears dripping from his face, “Everyday my heart broke knowing he was dead and never coming back! Now I know my heart broke every day for someone who is very much alive!” John shouted dropping his free hand pressing the gun harder into his head. The trigger was tauntingly close, it almost vibrated with anticipation.

“John please, please, don’t, please!” Mary’s pleading broke through the roaring static, “John don’t please!” she sobbed weakly.

His body froze. How could he do this? Why would he do this with Mary right there? With her watching just like when Sherlock fell. Sherlock had made John watch, had forced him to see his friend’s body falling through the air to the pavement. Forced him to see the blood, that he knew now was fake but at the time…no nothing could ever be compared to that moment and now he was about to do the same thing to Mary, in his case there wouldn’t be a grand reincarnation. Mary would have to live with his death burned into her mind.

No…he wouldn’t force that on her.

John growled shaking before pulling the gun from his head and pointing it at her dresser. He had decided but he still needed to pull that trigger, needed the fix of his addiction even if it wasn’t at anything living. The loud gunshot was echoed by Mary’s scream, which cut deeper into his heart more than anything. Her anguish was heart-wrenching and John felt shame that he had caused it.

Setting the gun on the floor John moved for Mary and wrapped his arms around her tight crumpled form on the floor. “Mary,” John whispered burying his face in her back while she clutched at him.

“John you stupid prat,” Mary cried holding him closer pressing her head into his chest.

Her tears felt scorching on his bare chest but John didn’t move. Her warmth was soothing it also enhanced the guilt and shame as he listened to her broken sobs.

 “I’m done Mary,” John whispered stroking her hair.

She dug her hands harder into him “No! Please John! John don’t!” Mary cried. John wrapped her more tightly into his body.

“No I mean I’m over my suicide urge,” John clarified.

“You are a fucking arse!” Mary snarled pulling back to look at his face.

Her words were well placed and more shame well inside him. Her eyes are puffy and red, still wet and stained from tears but they held a strong rage.

“I know,” he grimaced, the words still hurt, scraping against the raw emotions.

John heard her sigh “I’m glad you didn’t do it if that makes you feel better,” she added.

With that his exhaustion came in, settling heavily on his form. What felt like minute had been dragged out in hours. The clock on the side table read five. It had been almost twenty-four hours since he had last slept and all the emotional trauma had made it worse.

“Let’s get you to bed,” Mary said. John didn’t protest, standing her to allow her to straighten. Mary seemed a little unsteady on her legs.

“Are you alright?” he asked putting an arm around her waist.

Mary shot a glare at him “Did you not just try to blow your brain out in my bedroom? Of course I’m not alright!” John lowered his eyes. He would take her anger and hurt without a word in defense.

“Bed now,” her voice was gentler with a little of a commanding tone.

John didn’t need to be told again. Lying on the bed, he didn’t care that he was still dressed partially in a suit. It took seconds for him to fall asleep listening to Mary move quietly around the room.

John shivered from the memory of that night. He wanted to forget, he wanted to go back to before that night.

_When Sherlock was still dead…_

The thought physically hurt but John had to admit with Sherlock dead the doctor had felt somewhat normal for a while after all the grief of course. Now that he was back John kept dwelling on that fact, fighting the urge to seek the consulting detective out.

No, John wouldn’t allow himself of that just yet. He had to let his mind settle into the knowledge that Sherlock was truly alive and no amount of prodding from outside forces would break him. In the last week Mary had been subtly dropping hints towards the subject. She hadn’t outright said it but John knew she was working up to it. He was grateful for her, yes she was weary around him, always alert to his movements but she was a rock for him.

“Where did your mustache go?” Mary had joked. John couldn’t answer, he didn’t remember shaving it off but he must have since he now had a clean upper lip. Her teasing manner was slowly returning and that lift a bit of the shame he felt for scaring her.

The clinic was another rock. He wasn’t close to his co-workers but their normalcy was enough for John, he almost felt a part of it. The repetition of one patient after another was a good distraction and it was somewhat refreshing. Each night when he would finish and head for Mary’s flat, John felt a little weightless, a sense of achievement, it was good.

John was a little surprised and disappointed that his not dead best friend had yet to make an appearance. The doctor even looked for him when he walked or went about doing errands but had no sign of a stalking un-dead Sherlock Holmes. He knew that sooner or later the man would come and John wasn’t sure how he would react the second time around.

The robot that was Sherlock wouldn’t understand what he had done wrong, John knew this. His best friend was a sad excuse for a human being, lacking the proper knowledge of other human’s and even his own humanity. John knew his friend did have normal human habits and knew that the man did have a heart despite everything. Sherlock might even come to the conclusion of his own mistake, unlikely but John still had faith in the man.

Sighing John had one thought in mind, the only thought he kept coming to. Eventually mostly like within the next few days when he finally plucked up the courage and self-control, John would make the first move and go find Sherlock. He didn’t want to be the one to go first but in the end John realized that he would have to initiate it if there was any hope for a future relationship.

“Damn you Sherlock Holmes!” John cursed under his breath, glaring at the sidewalk as he turned the corner for home.


	13. Getting Caught in the Rain

**I took a late shift tonight, won’t be home until late – JW**

Mary read over the message with a sigh.

_Looks like I’ll be alone tonight._

She frowned as she walked. Mary had finished her own shift at the store and was headed back to the flat.

_Microwave meal and a movie…?_

She mused as she moved not paying attention to where she was heading. Mary had walked this sidewalk enough that she didn’t need to watch, she had other things on her mind anyway.

_What am I going to do with myself for the rest of the night?_

It had been a while since Mary had a night alone. She could go see a movie…which was something she didn’t get to do since John wasn’t a cinema goer.

_Shopping…maybe…no I can do that any time even with John._

_Take myself out? No…I’m not that desperate yet…pub? Nah…_

Mary sighed. Being single sucked sometimes.

_Maybe I need a boyfriend…_

She snorted to herself no she didn’t need that drama in her life at this moment. John had enough relationship issues without Mary adding hers.

Suddenly from out of nowhere Mary collided with a solid fleshy object that smelled rather good. It knocked her from her thoughts making her stop in moving.

"Excuse me, I'm sorry I really should pay attention to where I'm going," she apologized looking up as she spoke.

"No harm done Mary," the voice of one Greg Lestrade said. She was happy to see the good-looking man. Mary had wanted to get to know this man a little better anyway before John’s wee tantrum so months ago.

_Maybe a boyfriend would be nice…_

"Fancy meeting you here, are stalking me?" Mary said eyeing him. He was dressed in a simple grey shirt and worn jeans, topped with a light jacket.

"You caught me!" Greg joked stuffing his hands in his pocket as he chuckled, smiling.

"Isn't the point of stalking to go unnoticed?" Mary teased with her own smirk.

"Forgive me I'm new at it," He smiled receiving a giggle, "I was just walking, rough day."

"And you just happened to be in the neighborhood?" She gave him a wink.

Greg chuckled "Just picked a neighborhood and started walking, must be fate when it’s your neighborhood." He told her with an eyebrow waggle.

Mary smiled "Right Mr. Smooth, I might believe that." She said putting her hands on her hips.

"Hey you want to go grab a bite with me?" Greg asked suddenly looking nervous.

Mary's smile widened "Will I end up in a bath full of ice and a missing kidney by the end of the night?" She joked, watching him.

Greg smirked "No I reserve that for the second date,"

"Then I don't see why not," Mary agreed watching the detective light up, "but can we swing by my place so I can change?"

Greg nodded gesturing for her to lead.

"So rough day you said?" Mary asked curiously.

He nodded "Few murders, lots of paper work."

She wrinkled her nose "I can only imagine," Mary glanced at him as they walked wondering if she should ask about Sherlock. If anyone had seen the strange man it would be this man. Sherlock had known the detective for a long time before meeting John, working cases and such together.

"Thanks to Sherlock they were solved which makes for a lot less paper work." Greg added beating Mary to the line. He didn’t look like a man relieved to know his friend was alive.

"So you've seen him?" Mary asked quietly.

He looked at her, holding her eyes "Yea, how did John handle it?"

Mary looked away shivering at the memory of that night. She hated having that image in her head, seeing John with that horrible thing against his head. Even the thought made her sick, Mary had to force it away feeling bile rising in her throat.

"That bad?" Greg asked not expecting an answer.

Mary gave a nod "He almost tried to kill himself again..." her voice cracked. He froze, stopping mid-step.

Mary paused looking at him, seeing multiple emotions swirling in his hazel eyes. Greg clearly cared deeply for John "It was terrifying but he's better now, he's come to terms." She assured knowing it would do little to comfort him.

Greg looked her face over, taking a deep breath "I can't ever help him, can I?" It hurt to see this man looking so defeated and helpless. Mary wished John would forgive Greg and let the man back into his life.

She gave him a weak smile "John's a stubborn man and even if you had been there I doubt he would have listened. He'll come around Greg, keep faith. And until that day I’ll be there to keep him breathing."

The detective looked at her for a long moment before nodding, starting to walk again.

By this time they had reached Mary's flat "Forgive the mess, John's sleeping here and we've both been working so the place is a bit of a danger zone." She warned as she unlocked the door.

"I'm a single man who lives alone; do you think my flat is anywhere near clean?" Greg joked following Mary inside. She was glad to find it wasn’t as bad as she thought a few things here and there that could easily be taken care of.

"You look pretty clean so I'm going to go with yes, very clean maybe tipping the scale towards OCD." She teased shrugging her coat off and tossed on the back of the couch.

"Make yourself at home and I'll be back in a moment," Mary turned walking towards her bedroom.  As she walked Mary turned back to Greg still moving backwards "I keep my stash under the sofa and my arsenal behind the TV just in case you snoop, there won't be any surprises." Mary joked with a wink.

Greg laughed "I'll keep that in mind,"

Once in her room, Mary felt very giddy. It had been years since she had a proper date and never with someone so handsome. Greg was very handsome, that greying hair was worth drooling over and the way he filled out a pair of jeans in the rear...Mary almost purred. He also had a great sense of humor which was always highly attractive in her opinion.

Selecting a lovely purple blouse with a low V-neck, a comfortable pair of jeans, and a light jacket, Mary dressed. Adding a pair of flat boots, she deemed herself ready and left the room. Pausing a moment in the bathroom, Mary refreshed her deodorant and a squirt of perfume.

"Done," she announced back in the living room. Greg was looking over a few pictures on the wall over the TV, turning he looked her over,

"You look wonderful," he said truthfully, his eyes drifting over her slowly.

Mary smiled, feeling a slight blush warming her cheeks "I think you mean comfortable but thank you."

"When was this taken?" Greg asked pointing at one of the pictures. Drawing closer Mary looked at the picture in question. It was her and John.  Their faces pressed together, laughing.

"A few months ago," Mary answered, "it was my birthday. John forced me to the beach. I hate the beach, too much sand, too many people. I still had fun and then John snapped that picture on his phone. Few days later he had it printed out and framed, hung it up on my wall when I was at work." She laughed at the memory.

“I was so mad at him for putting it up. Thought I looked like a uni girl with her recent fling, John said he liked it because it showed how fun I can be, silly really.”

Greg smiled softly, glancing at it “I like it. John’s right, I can see why you keep him around.”

“Keep him? He’s like a lost puppy! I can’t get rid of him!” Mary joked, “So are we going to go or sit here and reminisce like an old married couple?”

Greg lifted his eyebrows “Eager, aren’t we?” he chuckled.

She stuck her tongue out at him “I’m giving you a pity date, who’s eager here?”

“Pity date? You think I’m that desperate?”

“I know I am…” Mary blurted out. Heat erupted throughout her body in panic “Wow, where is my filter?” she muttered nervously. Her eyes darted around the room, avoiding the intense gaze of the D.I.

“Mary,” Greg murmured, his gentle voice drew Mary’s wandering eyes. He was smiling, slightly amused, “Are you ready?” he asked clearly trying to help her feel more comfortable. Swallowing a lump in her throat Mary nodded “Let’s get out on the town!” Greg moved closer, following Mary as she opened the door.

With the flat door shut and locked, Greg held out his arm “Madam,” he said wiggling the offered arm at her.

Giggling Mary slid her own arm into the opening, “Why thank you good sir.”

They started down the road, not bothering with a cab “I know this great Thai place nearby, have you ever had Thai?”

“No and how do you know about this place?”

“Let’s just say it’s not the first time I’ve walked this street,” Greg admitted with a wink.

“So you were stalking me, bastard!” Mary snapped playfully.

“Stalking is so harsh, I like to think of it as keeping tabs on a beautiful woman,” Greg joked Mary laughed.

“Wow, beautiful you say…hmmm…does this beautiful woman get a free meal?” she teased he snorted.

“This is a date isn’t it?” Greg replied mocking offense.

Mary squeezed his arm “Than I approve, but I’ll have you know I like to eat so don’t expect a cheap date who orders only a salad.” She warned him.

Greg chuckled his eyes traveling over her again “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

They chit chatted the rest of the walk, reaching the restaurant a few minutes later. Mary had seen the place many times but hadn’t bothered to stop in. When they were sat, drinks ordered and glancing over the menu she felt fully relaxed for the first time in weeks.

“So the last time we met I never got to ask how you and John met,” Greg said looking at her from cross the table.

“Oh I don’t want to ruin the evening with that story,” Mary said knowing where that story would led.

“I’m just curious how John was lucky enough to meet someone like you,” he said she smiled at his effort.

“I wouldn’t call it luck when we met because of him overdosing.” Mary said watching Greg’s face pale.

“God, I’m sorry! Now I look like a complete arse,” he stammered taking a drink of his beer.

She smiled trying to comfort him “Don’t stress Greg, you didn’t know.” Mary looked over seeing her words hadn’t helped him at all. After the waiter collected their orders she started speaking:

“I met John a week after he overdosed at a sobriety meeting and I offered to be his sober companion, from there we became friends.” She told him hoping Greg wouldn’t press anymore questions on the subject.

“You were at a sobriety meeting?” he asked slowly. Mary saw him connecting the dots and realization dawned in his eyes, “you were a junkie?”

She sighed heavily, sipping her water.

_There goes the evening…_

“Not by choice,” Mary told him. Greg looked sadly at her, in a way that said he hadn’t expected this revelation from her. Looking him over, she decided there was no harm in telling him.

“It started with my ex; he kind of tricked me into drugs. It was more of a distraction on his part, trying to keep me high and barely conscious while he scouted out those with cash to have their fun with me.” Greg’s mouth fell open and his eyes widened.

Mary hastily took a large swig of water but it wasn’t enough “Can I get a whiskey?” she asked a passing waiter.

“You were…” Greg spoke quietly.

“Raped, yes, multiple times, I barely remember most of it.” Mary answered bluntly as the whiskey was set before her. Grabbing it up she downed it in one gulp. The burn down her esophagus was welcoming but fleeting.

“Mary,” Greg whispered grabbing her eyes. The distress and concern in his eyes was painful Mary had to look away, feeling the prick of threatening tears. She was stronger than this! She had accepted her past and the inability to change it. Her reliving of those months wouldn’t change anything.

“Hey, it’s better now,” she told him smiling fighting the tears, “I got out and now I’m here. No need to dwell on things that can’t be helped.” Mary reached across giving his hand a squeeze. He returned the pressure, intertwining their fingers.

“It just makes me mad,” Greg spoke his voice simmering with quiet rage, “I don’t see that when I look at you. How do you do it? How are you able to go on every day knowing what happened to you?” he asked his eyes flashing.

Mary shrugged “I know those things will always be there,” she tapped the side of her head, “but I choose if I want them to change me and I don’t want that. I want to have fun, laugh, cry when it’s needed, and just live the rest of my life in the light. I spent too long in the darkness and I don’t want it ever again.”

Greg watched her “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that it happened to you and I wish I could do something to change that.”

Mary gave him a weak smile “Thank you,”

Their hands still held each other, almost forgotten.

When the food arrived a second later the hands were pulled back to their perspective owners.

“You weren’t lying about the liking to eat part,” Greg teased between bites.

“Hey, it’s not that much           ! Besides anything I don’t eat will become lunch,” Mary said taking a loud bite from her meal.

Greg chuckled and continued eating.

“So has Sherlock been over to ask you to talk to John?” he asked several minutes later. Mary look at him, a large amount of food in her mouth with a few stray noodles hanging down her chin.

“Erloc?” her voice muffled by food. Greg laughed waiting for her to swallow before repeating his question.

“Yea actually,” Mary replied looking slightly guilty.

“You told him you would, didn’t you?”

She flushed “I didn’t want to! I told him that I wouldn’t let him hurt John again but then his adorable cheekbones and his…” Mary faltered staring at him. Greg blinked in confusion, curious to why she stopped.

“His what?” he pressed noting her swallowing nervously.

“His love,” Mary answered. Greg froze, “he loves John and John loves Sherlock.” She breathed looking defeated.

“John loves Sherlock so damn much. I knew it the moment I finally got him to open up about Sherlock. He’s hurting so much right now knowing that Sherlock had played dead for over two years without a word!”

“Sherlock on the other hand barely recognizes what love is but is clearly deeply in love with John. They are both so…ignorant…” Mary finished with a huff.

“That’s putting it lightly,” Greg chuckled, “John has every right to forget about Sherlock and move on like he should have in the first place.” Greg regretted his words right away.

Mary frowned “He watched the love of his life jump from a roof top and fall to his supposed death. Let’s see that happen to you and how well you move on afterwards.” Her voice was raw and sharp.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that. Sherlock should have been a little more sensitive in his return.” Greg back tracked getting a heated glare from the woman across from him.

“Damn straight! John is a mess!” Mary growled jabbing at her food before sighing with a soft smile, “but the romantic in me wants them to be together so of course I’m doing what I can to maybe get John towards forgiving Sherlock.”

Greg smiled “Sherlock asked me to speak to him as well,” Mary snorted, taking a bite.

“What did you do?”

“I laughed at him,” he replied getting a giggle.

“Bet he loved that!” she laughed looking up at him.

“Oh he did, yelled at me that he was going to ask you to help since I wasn’t interested.” Greg told her cracking a wide smile.

Mary shook her head pushing the food away “That man! He broke into my flat! Gave him a good bloody lip for it to!” the D.I. chuckled, “I’ve been dropping hints at John for weeks and he ignores then, intentionally! I love the man to death but can’t he see he’s missing out!”

“I just needs a little more time,” Greg assured gesturing for the check.

“Yea,” Mary sat back in her chair looking him over, “we’ve been talking about John and Sherlock most of the evening,” she realized.

Greg nodded snickering “We did discuss your colorful past,” he pointed out.

Mary wrinkled her nose “Tried to ruining the evening with that one,” he shrugged, “Tell me about you,” she said.

“Not much to tell. I’m divorced, living the life of a bachelor again. I work excessively, ragged most weeks. Not much of a life outside of work.” Greg told her finishing his beer.

“Being a detective inspector at Scotland Yard must have its perks?” Mary asked leaning over the table towards him, resting her elbows on the surface and her face cupped in her fingers, watching him.

“Lots of repetitive paper work,” Greg chuckled brushing a hair from her face. He was surprised by the movement, it had felt so natural.

“Come on! You have sirens and handcuffs, what’s more fun than that?” Mary waggled her eyebrows at him suggestively. Greg couldn’t help but laugh at her antics.

“Handcuffs? Really?” he teased watching her stick her tongue out at him.

“You know for restrain baddies and such,” Mary said taking a drink of her water looking the picture of innocence.

“What more can I say, I’m a Gemini, I like long walks on the beach, getting caught in the rain, and pina coladas .” He joked getting an eye roll.

“Oh so now we’re throwing out cinema romantic cliché, are we?” Mary said as Greg felt a leg rubbing against his. Eyeing her he watched her flashing him a knowing smile. The waiter arrived at that moment and set down the check, waiting a moment while Greg set out a credit card.

“You had me at hello,” he said with a half-smile that Mary was coming to love.

“Wow, When Harry Met Sally? Haven’t heard that in a while,” she giggled, “How do I top that?”

Greg gave her a wink before leaning forward and capturing Mary’s lips. The kiss was slow and tender, lasting only a few seconds. Greg pulled away a silly grin on his mouth “Bet you can’t top that,” he teased.

“Now you’re just showing off,” Mary muttered her face bright red with a blush. The waiter came back with the credit card and the two stood, heading out.

Out on the street, it had started to rain heavily “Cab?” Greg asked pulling his jacket closer to his body. Mary looked out at the rain before looking at him am excited smile on her face.

“What happened to liking getting caught in the rain?” she asked dashing off through the down pour.

“Mary!” Greg called watching her run off. She paused looking back at him, waving for him to follow. Laughing Greg shook his head before racing after her. Mary waited until he was close before moving off again. Her laughter was muffled by the pounding of the water on the pavement. Coming up next to Mary, Greg reached over, grasping her hand, their fingers intertwining, and pushed ahead of her.

“Greg!” Mary laughed as he dragged her down the street. Greg looked back at her, a wide grin on his face, the greying hair plastered to his head. Turning back to the sidewalk he sped up, forcing Mary to push harder to keep up.

It didn’t take them long to get to Mary’s flat, she was giggling so hard Mary found it difficult to unlock the door. Greg ended up taking the keys from her shaking hands and did it for her. They fell into the living room “I’m so cold,” Mary laughed holding up her cold, shaking fingers.

Greg pulled the door shut, locking and turned. He moved and wrapped his larger hands around hers “You were the one who raced off through the rain like a madwoman,” Greg pointed out.

Mary broke into fresh laughter still panting from their run “I love the rain! I wouldn’t live in London if I didn’t,” she said enjoying the warmth radiating through her hands.

Greg looked her over a moment before pulling her closer and kissing her. This was kiss was just like the one back at the restaurant, gentle. Mary slid her hands from Greg’s slackened grip and slithered them under his shirt.

“Owww!” Greg yelled jumping back from the cold of her fingers, “Hey!” Mary shrugged looking innocent. He suddenly noticed how wet the two of them were. Puddles were forming on the worn wooden flooring. Mary had seemingly come to the same realization.

“Come on we’re dripping everywhere,” she said with a smirk. Leading him to the bathroom Mary tossed him a towel “Take off your clothes and we’ll put them in the dryer,” She moved into the bathroom and shut the door behind her.

Greg stared at the wood of the door for a moment before going about removing his sodden trousers. With his bottom half bare the D.I. wrapped the towel firmly around his mid-section. Moving on the process of removing his shirt, Greg found this a little more difficult. It seemed the shirt had shrunk and was now stuff with his arms pinned over his head.

The bathroom door opened but Greg’s eyes were blocked by the wet shirt pressed to his face “Need some help?” Mary asked clearly holding back a laugh.

“No I think I prefer the world this way,” Greg joked as he felt hands drifting over his skin slowly inching the wet fabric up. A few minutes more passed before Mary was able to peel it off. They gathered up the wet things and put them in the dryer.

“And now we wait,” Mary sighed flopping down on her couch, still wrapped in a towel. Greg eyed her lingering over her exposed legs and bare shoulders.

“You know you can get dressed?” He reminded her, lifting an eyebrow at her.

“Oh can’t I keep you company in a towel or would you rather have a toga party alone?” Mary said smiling with amusement.

Greg snorted “I guess we can toga together,” he replied. They both burst out laughing, giggling like a pair of teenagers sneaking sips from the whiskey bottle.

“I can’t remember the last time I had this much fun,” Greg breathed still standing nearby.

Mary grinned “Stick with me pal and you’ll have so much fun it will hurt,” she winked.

Greg wrinkled his nose “Don’t threaten me with a good time,” he chuckled stepping towards her.

They looked at each other, anticipating the next moment just as they came together again. Mary leaned forward from her position on the couch, wrapping her fingers behind Greg’s neck. Their kissing were turning from gentle and tender to passionate after some minutes.

Feeling the position was awkward Mary slowly stood keeping their mouths together. Greg’s hands found Mary’s hips bringing them closer together. Their height difference was a little annoying but they didn’t dwell on it too long.

Greg’s tongue found its way into Mary’s mouth, tangling with hers. She couldn’t help when a moan escaped, echoing in the empty flat. Greg’s fingers were kneading Mary’s hips through the towel fabric.

_God! This feels amazing!_

How long had it been since someone had kissed her like this? Mary wondered her finger’s tangling in Greg’s hair. Too long, definitely, Greg was an amazing kisser. His tongue was certainly an explorer as it began licking down her neck. Mary groaned.

Suddenly flashing memories of Ryan and her multiple assaulters whirled through her mind. Mary froze, her body going from blistering to icy in seconds. Greg must have noticed the change, pulling his head back to look at her curiously. His eyes widened “Mary, are you alright?” his questioned worried.

Mary felt hot tears on her cheeks, wiping them away furiously she let out a shaky laugh “Stupid memories have a way of making at appearance at the most inconvenient times,” she told him. Greg’s hands dropped from her and he stepped back looking scared.

“It wasn’t anything you did I promise,” Mary assured feeling his warmth leaving. Stepping towards him, she stroked his face. The stubble of a five o’clock shadow felt rough against her palm “It wasn’t you,” Mary repeated. Greg’s eyes darted over her face before his arms snacked around her waist. Pressing their foreheads together they looked into each other’s eyes.

“Are you sure?” he asked quietly.

Mary smiled softly nodding “Promise, I just have a few demons.”

Greg nodding in understanding kissing her lightly “We’ll just keep this slow for now, ok? We’ll go forward when you’re comfortable.” He told her.

Mary’s chest tightened “Are you sure?” she could hardly get the words out.

“Of course, that is if you’ll have me?” Greg said smiling.

Mary studied the beautiful hazel of the man’s irises “Everyday if you want,” she answered receiving a chuckle and another but much longer kiss.


	14. A Bit of Forgiveness

It was late or more like it was very early, John had just gotten off from his shift and was heading home. Grabbing a cab he sat with his head against the glass of the window watching the buildings rush by. John’s tired mind was drifting, wandering through different areas of his brain without any attention.

“221B Baker Street,” the cabbie announced pulling up to the curb.

Hearing the address John snapped alert glancing to the driver “What?” he asked confused as he looked out at the familiar street around him. He didn’t remember telling the man this address but he didn’t remember saying anything else either.

“You wanted Baker Street. I got you to Baker Street.” The cabbie snapped turning his body to glare at John. Staring at the other man intently the doctor almost wanted a fight. Finding the self-control John sighed and handed the driver his fair before getting out on to the damp sidewalk.

Baker Street was the same, not that John expected the place to change in the last two weeks since he had last set foot here. Though he had hoped for something that showed exactly how he felt, utterly destroyed. Lifting his eyes, John looked to the flat windows above him. Dim light could be made out through the curtains but nothing else gave away the inhabitant.

_Bugger…_

John cursed pulling out his key and unlocking the front door. The dark stairs up to the flat were less than inviting but the doctor’s legs moved mechanically taking him up the steps one at a time. Pausing in front of the worn wooden door John looked it over but it too gave nothing away. Taking a deep breath John unlocked this door as well and pushed himself inside.

The flat looked very Sherlockian almost as if the mad genius had never left in the first place. Papers and dirty dishes covered most surfaces. The air clogged with the slight odder of chemicals was almost welcoming helping the truth settle deeper which in turn made a fresh wave of betrayal flood through the doctor.

John looked about the room not spotting the recently reanimated corpse, listening told him nothing either. Slowly the doctor made his way over to his chair and sat. John wasn’t sure what he was doing, or why he was here, wasn’t even sure if he even truly forgave his Sherlock.

_No…not mine, never mine…_

John scolded himself sadly, relaxing into the chair he closed his eyes to wait. Without meaning to John fell asleep, thankfully he was sleeping deeply and didn’t dream. When the sun was rising, crisp light touched his face. John felt the warmth on his skin rousing him slightly. Not wanting to be awake the doctor nestled further into his chair intent on falling into peaceful bliss, ignoring the annoying throb of his bad shoulder.

“John?”

His breath hitched at the lovely baritone that vibrated through the air around him and in his chest. John didn’t open his eyes, reaching out his senses he felt Sherlock drawing closer. The warmth of the other man was radiating and vibrant. The doctor wanted nothing more than to go to the man and wrap around him, to feel the solid and living flesh of the one he thought was dead for so long. John wanted to listen to the strong heartbeat, pumping blood through the other man’s veins.

_Stop that! He lied to you!_

“John,” The voice was almost pleading now, hovering in front of him. John couldn’t help it when his eyes slid open taking in the full glory of the man he loved.

Sherlock had been sleeping! His gorgeous curls were more unruly then normal and slight bags under his eyes told John that much. Sherlock wore a loose bathrobe showing off a bare pale chest underneath accompanied by a pair of boxers. The doctor’s eyes travel over the man without a word, knowing there was nothing to be said at the moment. Seeing this sight that John rarely saw before the Fall, it was painful almost to see it now. It was an even further unsettling reminder that Sherlock was truly alive and had let John believe it. No, had forced John to believe it.

“John,” Sherlock’s eyes locked on to his. A small smile forming on his mouth, the moon lit pupils filled with relief and guilt. John stared seeing the guilt and shame building in the other man’s features. Never did he ever think he would see those emotions together especially in the man before him.

John wanted to forgive him, wanted nothing more in the world well expect for wanting Sherlock to be alive or course. Somehow the doctor couldn’t find it in himself to forgive this man just yet, not after everything. No Sherlock had been cruel and John wouldn’t let him off that easily.

“John,” Sherlock whispered seeming content in just saying his name and staring.

Without a word John stood, facing the other man. His eyes looking Sherlock over once more, the truth was now set in stone with no room for error. Settling his eyes back on Sherlock’s, they stood staring at each other. John felt calm, almost at peace for the first time in a long time. Managing a weak smile in return to the taller man, John leaned forward wrapping his arms lightly around Sherlock. There it was. There was the heartbeat. It beat quietly in the other man’s chest, echoing through the muscles to John’s ear.

Sherlock was stunned and ridged in John’s arms but the doctor didn’t care, he needed this. As the hug went on and Sherlock was still frozen, John made to pull away just as long limbs snaked around his body. Pulling him closer, Sherlock sighed laying his head on top of John’s. Letting Sherlock have this embrace John took his friend in. The man’s scent hadn’t changed in the last two years and it brought tears to the doctor’s eyes.

Done with this bit of forgiveness John pulled away stepping away from the other man who was a little more reluctant to release him. Moving for the door he heard Sherlock make a small sound of protest as if to stop John from leaving. Happy to hear that noise but also a bit pained by it, John paused in the doorway and looked back towards the other man.

Sherlock looked lost and seemed on the verge of calling John back but a look from the army doctor he stopped. John looked the man over letting out a held sigh.

“I’m glad you’re not dead,” John spoke truthfully.

Barely giving Sherlock time to process John was on his way down the stairs and out on the street hailing a cab. Getting in the cab John’s looked up at the window’s to see Sherlock watching. This kind of staring match went on until John’s cab turned the corner and out of view.

A torrent of emotions raged through John as his thoughts whirl pooled in his mind. Questions and spinets of thought mashed into incoherent images creating utter confusion. The doctor felt a migraine building and rubbed his temples in an attempt to avert it. It was useless.

When the cab stopped at Mary’s flat the migraine had gotten to the point of nauseous and John barely paused to pay his fee before rushing to the door. The dark of the flat didn’t bother the doctor as he sped to the bathroom and emptied the sparse contents of his stomach.

“John!” Mary’s urgent call echoed through the quiet. John didn’t answer as he kneeled on the floor, heaving dryly into the porcelain bowl.

John didn’t hear Mary until her cool hands started massaging his back murmuring soothingly “It’s alright John, I’m here, and you’re alright. Everything is going to be fine.”

“I’ll get some water,” another voice muttered but John wasn’t listening.

Done wrenching nothing into the toilet John sat back until he fell into the wall. With his eyes closed and panting slightly John felt the migraine fading slowly. Mary’s fingers intertwined with his as she sat next to him “You want to talk?” she asked as returning foot falls sounded nearby.

“Here,” the new comer whispered. Mary shifted supposedly taking water from the clearly male person.

“John,” she spoke and John brought his hand up without opening his eyes. A cool glass bumped his fingers, bringing the water to his lips, John chugged. Mary’s free hand lay against John’s brow, feeling for a fever.

Lowering the glass John opened his eyes, glancing to Mary “I’m not sick,” he told her.

Mary looked very concerned but also very tired. “I’m sorry I woke you,” he apologized looking to the other person in the room.

He was surprised and speechless when John spotted Greg Lestrade standing in the doorway, bare chested with only boxers on.

“We weren’t sleeping,” Mary said but John’s eyes were locked on Lestrade, “What’s wrong John?”

“What is he doing here?” John asked bluntly an idea forming in his head, “And where is his shirt?”

Mary squirmed, very uncomfortable “We went out to dinner and got soaked on our way back to the flat so I threw Greg’s clothes in the dryer and offered to let him hangout.” She replied clearly remembering the last time John had seen the detective inspector.

John forced his eyes back to Mary’s, wanting nothing more than to be angry but found himself emotionally drained after the emotionally attack that caused him to throw up. Taking a deep breath John dropped Mary’s hand as he pushed up the wall to stand. Mary followed hastily, glancing at Greg nervously.

“I’m too tired to care,” John told them walking passed them for the living room.

“John, what happened?” Mary asked trotting after him.

Flopping down on the couch John pulled the blanket from the back, kicking off his shoes to the floor “Can we talk in the morning I’m exhausted?” he asked looking up at her.

Mary stood behind the couch looking down on him “It is morning,” she pointed out with a teasing smile.

“Ha-ha later in the morning after I’ve gotten a few hours of sleep,” John clarified dryly rolling over away from her. Hearing a sigh the doctor knew he had won.

“Fine but don’t think I’ll be quiet while you’re sleeping,” Mary snapped but John knew she was just concerned. He listened to her retreating steps and the whispered conversation between Greg before silence.

Relaxing into the couch John closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep.

The minutes his eyes closed, John’s ears rang with gun fire for long gone battles. Pain of his shoulder throbbed painful with imagined fresh infliction. He watched Sherlock falling through space with a dramatic blood splatter as he hit the ground.


	15. Smoking Doctor

“Did you see the paper this morning?” John asked Mary a few days later. She glanced at him, noting the bangs under his eyes.

_He hasn’t been sleeping again._

Mary sighed. They had never talked after his emotional overload but she suspected Sherlock had something to do with that so she didn’t press. “No,” she replied to his question. They were sitting in the living room being lazy on one of the few days they had off together.

“Sherlock’s been busy,” John said turning the paper for her to read:

**NEWLY RESTURRECTED DETECTIVE SAVES PARLIAMENT**

“He must be happy,” Mary told him.

John shrugged and shook his head “Doubt it, he just finished a case and he’s probably already bored.” He smirked but it suddenly disappeared, pulling the paper back and began reading through it again.

“How is Greg today?”

John had been surprisingly happy for Mary when she had told him they were dating, every day since he had giving support with friendly questions and advice. “Greg loves doughnuts, coconut is his favorite,” little tidbits of information like that every now and then.

“He’s wonderful, said he’ll stop by after work with dinner if you’re up for it.” Mary replied glad that John was being such a good friend.

“I think I might go see Sherlock today actually.”

Mary’s head snapped towards him “Really?” the words fell from her mouth. Excitement and worry bubbled together in the pit of her stomach. “Yes,” John took a deep breath looking at her, “I haven’t forgiven him completely just yet but I…I’m working on it.” He smiled weakly.

Mary returned the smile with more enthusiasm as she got on her knees and scooted over to his side of the couch. Falling into his body, she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him. “Have I mentioned I love you,” she asked breathing the words into his ear.

John chuckled, patting her back lightly “Not today you haven’t,”

“I love you John Watson!” Mary told him kissing his cheek wetly.

“EEEEWWWWW!!! Gross! Girl germs!” John laughed whipping his face on her shoulder. Mary pulled away, sitting back on her heels.

“Excuse me I am a woman,” she huffed in mocking offence and giggled when John stuck his tongue out at her.

“Pardon me!” he teased, “if it’s any consolation I love you too.”

Mary smiled, waggling her eyebrows at him suggestively. John shook his head laughing “But just as a friend and don’t you forget it.”

“Not easily forgotten my friend,” she said scooting back to her side of the couch.

Sighing John set down his paper “I’m going to go see him and don’t worry I won’t take too long. I can only stand the man for a minimal amount of time before I can’t resist the urge to punch him.”

Mary laughed “I would pay to see that.”

“Oh you! Behave, you are a bad influence.” John said smiling as he stood. Heading for the door, he ruffled Mary’s hair fondly on his way by “See you later,” John called as he left.

Mary looked over her shoulder at the shut front door, smiling.

_This is good!_

_It will be great, everything is falling into place and John will forgive Sherlock._

Her happy mood was intoxicating and she couldn’t wait for Greg to arrive.

***

A sharp prick of a needle in his neck was what first alerted John of danger but it was too late. Whatever he had been injected with was working fast. John’s legs gave out, luckily his captor held his weight and shifted him into a waiting van.

John’s vision blurred and his ears deafened until darkness overcame him.

***

Night had just settled in when the first text came in. Mary hadn’t moved from her spot on the couch as she grabbed up her phone reading an incredibly strange text from John. It took her several times of reading until she spotted the code.

“John.” Mary whispered jumping to her feet and throwing them into some shoes. On her way out the door she didn’t lock up, just snagged a cab and rushed for Baker Street. Throwing money at the cabbie Mary dove from the car and up to 221B.

“Sherlock!” she yelled rushing through the door. Sherlock towered in front of her looking at if he had just walked in since he was still dressed in a scarf and coat.

“Something’s wrong, have you seen John?”

“No, not today.”

“Damn he was coming to see you. I got this text,” Mary moved closer showing him the message, “it’s a skip code.”

Sherlock nodded scanning the words “We have to go now!” he snapped moving past her for the door. Out on the street they commandeered a scooter and were off.

Left, right, right, left, down some stairs, over a bridge Mary was all turned around barely surprised Sherlock knew exactly where they were going or how to get there quickly. John was running out of time and Mary couldn’t let him die. Whoever had taken the doctor was going to die, she would see to it personally.

The church came into sight and Mary prayed for them to go faster. Smoke could be seen starting to rise from the yard in front of the towering building. “John!” she screamed launching herself from the bike when Sherlock had slowed down. Pushing through the panicked people, Mary summoned her strength and started pulling wood from the smoldering bonfire that supposedly trapped John.

“John!” Sherlock was yelling helping move aside logs, searching for signs of the doctor.

“Sherlock!” a quiet, muffled voice called spurring the two into digging faster. Seconds passed with more frantic digging before a white, soot covered hand appeared.

“John!” Sherlock and Mary cried at the same time. The tall man grabbed the hand and pulled the rest of John from the burning wood pile. Sherlock wrapped his friend in a tight embrace and wheeled back from the fire. The watching people were silent, just stood watching.

“Get back! Someone call the police!” Mary shouted glancing at Sherlock and John who were now settled on the ground. Sherlock had the small doctor lying mostly on his leg, arms wrapped around John’s chest. The smaller man’s fingers clutched Sherlock’s pant legs as he wheezed.

“You’re safe now. I got you.” Sherlock was rocking slowly whispering under his breath. Mary knelt beside them placing a hand on John’s chest, she relished in the heart that beat against it.

“You are safe now John.” Mary murmured to her friend knowing he wouldn’t hear her.

***

John was safe, he was alive, his chest rising and falling slowly as he slept echoed by the beeping of a heart monitor. Sherlock couldn’t help but stare at the other man’s chest fearing that at any moment it wouldn’t fill up with necessary oxygen. It had been hours since he had pulled John from the bonfire and Sherlock was still shaking. He had almost lost John, his John, his brave solider. Why? Who had targeted John? Someone who wanted the attention of Sherlock Holmes, it didn’t matter. Whoever it was going to be dying painfully by Sherlock’s hands,

_I’ll make this right John._

Sherlock promised mentally dragging his eyes to the doctor’s slackened face. The doctors assured him John would be fine and he could go home as soon as he woke.

_Not home, back to her place._

Sherlock snorted. He had no ill feelings towards Mary, he was grateful to her for caring for John while he was gone, for helping keep his doctor breathing but Sherlock didn’t like the idea of John being so far away. Home was Baker Street, home was with Sherlock.

Sighing Sherlock sat back in his chair, steepling his fingers under his chin and retreated into his mind palace. The place was splattered in John. It was a mess of disorganized, neglected information. John filled every room and Sherlock wouldn’t change that even though the place with a disarrayed mess because of his attempting at getting John’s forgiveness.

Sherlock had prevented Parliament’s destruction, he had destroyed a whole worldwide criminal organization by himself but when it came to John’s safety or his happiness Sherlock was a wrecking ball.

_But you died to save him…it was always for him…_

That was true. John was the reason Sherlock had jumped. He couldn’t let John die especially when he had a way to save the man.

“Sherlock,” Mary had returned from her coffee break.

Leaving his palace, Sherlock glanced at her. She looked tired and worn, soot speckled her face.

“Has he woken up?” Mary asked moving across to his seated position.

Sherlock shook his head “Not at all.” He replied standing and gesturing for her to take the seat.

Smiling tiredly Mary sat, leaning forward in the chair to take John’s limp hand “He’s strong he’ll be fine,” she muttered out loud sounding more like she was trying to convince herself.

Sherlock felt uncomfortable knowing she was seeking something along human interaction lines. Remembering something John had done for one of his girlfriends, Sherlock stepped closer and placed his hands on her shoulders and started massaging “He’s a soldier, everything will be fine.” He agreed.

Mary’s shoulders were tense but as his fingers moved she slowly relaxed, leaning back into the chair. It didn’t take long for his gentle touch to put her to sleep. Finding a spare blanket Sherlock draped it over her, looking towards the sleeping man Sherlock sighed. He would leave before the doctor woke knowing his presence wouldn’t be welcomed just yet even after their last meeting.

John’s embrace hadn’t been what Sherlock was expecting but it was nice. The ex-soldiers warm arms around him had been pure bliss, giving Sherlock hope that his John had already forgiven him. That faded when John pulled away and still looked sick with agony and betrayal. Sherlock would never forgive himself for that look, for that pain he had caused his best friend, his only friend.

Forcing himself from his mind, Sherlock glanced around the room one more time before strolling out the door.

***

It had been a week and John’s chest still hurt every now and then when he breathed in. Smoke from the fire had partially seared his lungs and coughing was painful. He couldn’t help but grunt with the discomfort and regretting it when the woman with the incredible hearing came rushing into the room.

“John what is it? What’s wrong?” Mary peppered him with questions. She had been so jumpy since John woke in the hospital. For some reason Mary blamed herself for what happened and John’s assurance did nothing to take her from those thoughts.

“I’m good Mary really,” he assured spotting Greg’s worried face appear nearby, “please Greg control your woman! She’s driving me insane!” The D.I. smirked receiving a glare from Mary.

“Come on Mar just leave him be, he’ll call if he needs anything.” Greg attempted even using the nickname he had given her. Mary’s hard look softened “Fine,” she muttered giving John a worried look before moving from her bedroom back into the kitchen.

Mary had forced John to take her bed since returning from the hospital and wouldn’t let him go back to the couch until his cough was gone. The doctor thought it was ridiculous but couldn’t argue with her anymore.

John was stuck on going over the events that had lead up to his capture and his roast in the bonfire. He didn’t remember anything after the needle being shoved into his neck. The next thing John knew was he was waking surrounded by smoke and hearing the crackle of flames over his head. Whatever drug he had been given made thinking nearly impossible and he could function until Sherlock’s voice calling his name forced him to focus.

Feeling strong hands pulling him from the flames and away from the smoke, the strong arms wrapped him in a cocoon, he felt safe in. John couldn’t remember much, mostly blurred faces and muffled words as well as voices. Mary explained later that she had gotten a message from whoever had taken him with a code. With Sherlock’s help they had barrowed (stolen) a scooter and had rescued John just in time.

Sherlock had pulled John from the fire that much he remembered clearly. John could still see the look of terror and relief on the man’s face when he had been dragged from the burning wood. Waking in the hospital had been a little disorienting but a few words from Mary had helped things settle. After hearing Sherlock’s part in John’s rescue, he had looked for the tall man.

“He left an hour ago I think, I was asleep,” Mary had informed him, “We couldn’t get him to do anything until he was sure you were alright.”

Why did he leave? John wanted so much to ask the man and he was going to, he planned to.

“Mary!” the doctor said as he stood from the bed. It barely took her a second to enter the bedroom, eyes wide and looking for something, “I’m going to go see Sherlock.” Mary’s mouth opened before closing sharply and she looked proud but worried at the same time.

“Do you want me to come?”

John smiled touched by her concern but irritated at the same time “No, I’ll be fine. I really want to talk to him alone.” She bobbed her head but still looked at him with a longing look. “Don’t worry I’ll be fine, really. If it will make you feel better I’ll text you when I get there and when I’m headed back this way.” He suggested Mary bit her lip.

“I’m not your mother John,” she told him quietly sounding guilty.

John moved towards her, grabbing up one of her hands and squeezing lightly “I’ll text you,” he said knowing it would make her feel better. Kissing her cheek, John went back to the bed to sit and pull on his shoes. Grabbing up his keys and wallet, John said a hurried farewell and left before he someone changed his mind.

Getting a cab, John relaxed into the seat and stared out the window, not seeing the passing buildings as he got lost in thought.

John knew that he loved Sherlock, somewhat of an understatement. He was more like obsessed with Sherlock, addicted. John knew this. He also understood how unhealthy that was but couldn’t find the gumption to care. John wanted Sherlock or he would die that much was clear, last two years with Mary had been more of a distraction. If he had been left alone for even a short amount of time without her, John wouldn’t be breathing anymore.

_Pathetic…_

He was so wound around Sherlock that John couldn’t function properly without thinking about the man. Every now and then in the last few weeks John would feel a sickening twinge in his chest, the biting remains of his grief and he would have to remind himself that Sherlock was alive. If he didn’t, John would be thrown into a panic attack. Luckily the first time it had happened John had been home alone and had time to regain control of himself before Mary got home.

As he drew closer to Baker Street John focused on the familiar buildings passing by. Taking a few deep breaths he started to prepare himself to see the man he loved.


	16. Save Me

Sherlock was lounging on his chair, dressed in his robe and not much else. His beloved violin lay abandoned in John’s chair and Sherlock couldn’t stop staring at it. Over the last two years he had nearly driven himself mad by ignoring the urge to contact his friend.

_Now he’s gone and he hates you._

The small doctor had been a large part of his life before the Fall. Sherlock hadn’t realized until that day just how much he really cared for his flat mate, his only friend. The strong need to save John had been overwhelming and had led to the hasty decision to actually indulge Moriarty in his sick and twisted game. Sherlock had known what James had been planning, well mostly but he had taken the necessary steps to prevent his permanent death.

John had been a part of that plan and now Sherlock regretted that. Forcing the doctor to watch his ‘suicide’ had been cruel but it had insured John’s safety and Sherlock would never regret that. Sighing Sherlock threw an arm over his eyes. Boredom was creeping in and he needed something to do.

Heavy, slow footsteps on the stairs drew his attention. Listening to the progression Sherlock’s heart leapt, he knew those feet anywhere! In the two years they hadn’t changed! Standing up Sherlock waited for the man to open the door. Excitement and guilt building in his chest, the agonizing seconds dragged on and Sherlock started fidgeting, eyes fixed on the brass knob.

Finally it turned and was pushed open. Sherlock’s view was blocked for a moment and he fought back the growl. John looked over at the taller man as he shut the door. No one spoke. Sherlock wanted John to speak first. He wanted the man to say everything he needed to feel better and Sherlock would listen. He would take every word the doctor said to heart even if it was a permanent goodbye. 

John slowly moved from the closed door to stand before Sherlock. His head tilted to look him in the eyes. Sherlock was impressed by the blank look John was able to put up. It had always been easy for Sherlock to read his blogger but in those times that John had been truly mad, he could put on the best poker face not even Sherlock could break past. He studied the smaller face hoping for a hint.

“Why did you leave?”

Sherlock had expected this question so it was no surprise but he didn’t know how to explain it to John. “To save you,” the words flew out of his mouth. John’s eyes widened and his lips flattened into a thin line. Sherlock’s mind whirled thinking for something else to say. It was useless when John’s fist came up and slammed into Sherlock’s chin. He stumbled back and fell into his chair.

“You bastard! You bloody insensitive robot!” The anger exploded out of John, “Two fucking years Sherlock! Two years! I thought you were dead, I watched you fall! Night after night I saw your blood on the pavement!” John’s words ripped through the air. The rage radiating from the small man was raw and powerful. Sherlock felt its blistering heat and was even afraid.

“Nothing! No letters, phone calls, ah hell even a bloody text! You let me go on believing you were dead, you left me! I grieved Sherlock! I moved on! I tried to move on! And where have you been?! Who fucking knows! Sherlock I don’t understand! I don’t fucking understand!” John was breathing heavily, his compact form tensed and towering over Sherlock.

“I still have to remind myself that you’re alive! That you spent the last two years pretending to be dead! That you’d rather fake a suicide then be here with me!” That cut deep, causing Sherlock to physically flinch. “God Sherlock!” John spun from him, throwing his hands up, “The day you jumped….I…I died.” His voice was quieter now, he wasn’t shouting anymore. John’s shoulders were slumped and shaking.

“I died Sherlock. The last two years it’s been a struggle just to get up every day and act like everything is fine, that I’m happy to be alive when I wanted nothing more than to join you in the ground.” The doctor’s body shuttered.

Sherlock stood slowly, fighting the tears that burned his eyes. John’s pain was a fog around him and Sherlock couldn’t even imagine the full extent. John turned to look at the taller man and Sherlock’s heart dropped. John’s face was the definition of suffering. His eyes were red and hard with dwindling rage melting into pure agony.

“I asked you for a miracle Sherlock,” John took a shaky breath, “I asked you not to be dead.” Sherlock knew this. He had been there on that day, he had heard John’s plea.

Some minutes passed as John’s breathing evened out and his face began to return to its normal color, the anger and pain still very evident in his eyes. Sherlock didn’t speak feeling the tension still hanging in the air. He watched a spark of guilt flower in the doctor’s eyes. John stepped forward, moving until he stopped before Sherlock. His eyes darted around the taller man’s face as he lifted a hand. John’s thumb brushed across Sherlock’s lip and pain erupted.

“Let’s get you fixed up,” the doctor spoke quietly pushing Sherlock gently back into his chair. A few minutes of bustling about John planted himself on the coffee table in front of Sherlock’s chair and set up the med kit next to him.

“It will sting a bit but you won’t need stiches,” the smaller man assured glancing over at Sherlock as he dug through the bag. The taller man still remained quiet not wanting to bother John as he worked. “I can’t do much with a lip injury but I can clean it so it won’t get infected.” The doctor told him. Sherlock watched as John whipped his lip with an antibacterial wipe that stung.

Sighing he put the wipe aside and sat back on the table. Sherlock watched the doctor, searching for something to say, something to keep the man longer. Organizing his thoughts, Sherlock opened his mouth “You know me John,” he started slow choosing his words carefully, “You know I am not good at expressing my feelings.”

“Or anything else for that matter,” John muttered but not loud enough to interrupt.

“I can’t imagine the pain I put you through and it nearly kills me hearing everything you’ve done since my…Fall…” the doctor paled looking away. Sherlock sat forward, reaching forward and grabbing John’s hand. He stiffened at the touch but didn’t move. John’s eyes looked to their hands for a moment before relaxing.

“No amount of apologizing will ever make these last two years ok, nothing I can say will be good enough to make everything alright. It’s all…not good…” Sherlock closed his eyes, feeling a few tears roll down his face. Opening his eyes again, Sherlock found John staring at him with shock. “There is no excuse for my actions. I should never have manipulated you like I did and I regret that.” Sherlock swallowed back the lump in his throat.

“Moriarty said he would burn the heart from me and in the end he did just that. John…you are my heart and my Fall burned you…I believed my jumping would save you but now I see that it ruined you, I ruined you.” Sherlock had never felt so broken as he spoke. This was his solution, it was his goodbye. John needed to move on. He needed to find happiness before he became a shell.

John slid forward on the coffee table, their knees bumping together. John’s free hand gripped Sherlock’s robe “I need to leave again John,” the taller man spoke hearing the hitch in  the doctor’s breathing, “I need to let you find happiness, something you deserve more than anything. I…I don’t bring happiness…I break things.”

John pulled his hands up to wrap around Sherlock in a tight, awkward hug “Don’t leave me!” the smaller man cried shaking violently, pulling the taller man closer, “Please Sherlock! I can’t handle losing you, not again!” his pleas caused more tears to flow down Sherlock’s face.

“Sherlock you saved me before…you saved me when I came home….save me again Sherlock.” John said his voice muffled in the other man’s shoulder. John was the strongest man Sherlock had ever met and seeing the man’s breakdown was crushing. Sherlock had caused this, all of this.

“How can I save you John when I can’t save myself?” he asked stroking John’s back.

“Please don’t leave, please!” the doctor was whimpering clutching onto Sherlock.

The taller man closed his eyes, breathing in his John. His scent hadn’t changed in the years, he still smelled like old books and grass. It was a smell Sherlock carried with him and could never get enough of.

_John has made his choice…_


	17. Slipping Away

Lestrade stayed late into the night and Mary hated to say goodnight. John still wasn’t home and she didn’t expect him for several hours. Mary was smiling, her cheeks were starting to hurt from the strain.

“I’ll be back tomorrow after work I promise,” Greg chuckled kissing her forehead lightly and cupped her cheek.

“But I don’t want you to go!” She whined puffing out her bottom lip and attempting puppy eyes. The man’s smile grew wider and he ducked down, kissing her lips. They had shared many kisses since starting their relationship but this one was deep and possessive.

When Greg pulled away Mary stared at him wide eyes, mouth hanging open slightly “Wow…” she breathed.

“I would stay but I have to work early in the morning but I will be back tomorrow and we can stay up as long as you want.” Lestrade assured pecking her quickly before he changed his mind. Mary watched him leave, her lips tingling after the mind blowing kiss.

“Now what am I supposed to do.” She grumbled looking around the silent flat. Mary walked over to her couch and threw herself down. Lying on her back to stare up at the ceiling she sighed missing Greg. Mary had fallen quick for the Detective and there was no doubt in her mind that she was madly in love with him. Just thinking about him made her breath quicken and her heart nearly explode from her chest.

Memories of Ryan took the opportunity to invade her thoughts. Mary’s stomach dropped and cold shot through her. The last time she had been in love it had been him. He had made her feel things she had never felt before and now here she was in the same boat.

_Greg is nothing like Ryan!_

This was the screaming truth. Ryan had been a manipulating drug addict and pimp, he had forced Mary to do things she had never done and would never do again. Greg wouldn’t ever sink that low.

_But you never thought Ryan would either._

That thought had a point.

_Stop that! Greg is different._

Sitting up Mary couldn’t lie there thinking about it anymore, she wouldn’t. Standing up she wandered in to the kitchen before deciding on a shower.

The steaming water relaxed her and helped clear her mind. When she was wrinkled and out of hot water Mary stepped out of the shower, dried herself, and headed for her bedroom. Dressing in soft cotton pajama’s, Mary crawled into bed. Snuggling into the covers she couldn’t help but sigh in content. It only took minutes for her to fall asleep.

Some hours later Mary woke with a start, sitting straight up in her bed. The flat was quiet but Mary was sure something had woken her. Glancing over at the clock she sighed at the time and rolled out of bed. Stifling a yawn and somehow keeping her balance, Mary shuffled to the bedroom door.

The kitchen was dark and empty, not a sound could be heard. Moving in to the room Mary looked around, nothing was out of place. As her eyes scanned the room, they spotted a dark figure in the doorway to the living room. A short figure barely taller than her.

“John?” Mary asked taking a step towards the phantom.

The person didn’t respond only lifted its arm towards her. In the dark Mary couldn’t make out the figure very well but knew that it wasn’t John. Warning alarms were going off in her head and fear flooded through her in realization.

Suddenly a deafening bang erupted and something hit Mary in the shoulder, knocking her to the floor. Flat on her back, confused with pain burning her shoulder, Mary cried out. The floor underneath her was quickly becoming sticky and something hot was soaking through her clothes. A metallic taste was building in the back of her throat and had become a fog around her as Mary tried to understand what was happening.

_I’ve been shot!_

The thought burst through the fogging pain. Bringing her uninjured arm up, Mary touched the hurt shoulder. Hissing with pain at the gentle touch, her fingers became coated in what she knew was blood. Bracing herself Mary forced her palm down on the new hole. The pain was dizzying but she pressed, applying pressure.

The sticky feeling underneath her had grown pooling around her upper body and Mary knew she was losing too much blood. Pushing down on the wound with all her strength Mary began to feel weak. The blood loss was starting to make her feel tired and disconnected from her body. Small spasms of pain from her shoulder was a reminder Mary had been shot since the whole arm was now numb.

She wanted to sleep, wanted to drift in to oblivion but Mary felt her body fighting. So she hovered near unconsciousness listening to the quiet of the flat around her.

_John will find me…_

Mary flinch at that thought waking her numbed arm briefly, shooting fresh spouts of pain. He would find her but he would too late. She could feel how weak her pulse was and how slow her breathing had become, it was only a matter of time before he came.

_Greg…_

His face flashing in her thoughts caused her to whimper with despair. Tears rolled down her face mixing with the blood. He would have to investigate her murder and maybe even Sherlock. Would they find whoever did this? Not that she cared. Mary didn’t hate them for what they did. She hated them for causing pain to her friends, to the people she loved.

At one point in her life this is what Mary wanted. She wanted this slow slipping she was feeling as she edged towards death. Unlike John, Mary hadn’t wanted it badly enough, she hadn’t been hurting enough.

More tears rolled down her face as she fell into memories. Mary didn’t even realize she was starting to doze until a yell startled her.

“Mary!” it was John. Sounds of feet hitting the floor told her he was moving closer. Warm, strong hands pressed on her shoulder making her scream with the new wave of agony. “Mary you must stay awake, can you hear me?” He was speaking in her ear.

“John…” Mary started to say when John pressed down harder on her shoulder causing a weak cry from her.

She listened to him as he muttered over his phone. His voice was starting to sound distant and hollow, Mary was having a hard time making out his words.

“Mary…stay…awake…can…you….hear…me…?” John’s spoke but the words were sluggish. She felt push down on her shoulder again but Mary felt nothing, no pain, no pressure. “Mary…” fingers touched her face and she could see John’s face move closer. Mary noted the pain on his face and even now as she spiraled towards unconsciousness her heart broke.

“John,” Mary breathed fighting. John held his breath eyes burning into hers, “Love…you…” she managed. Holding his eyes before she could hold on any longer, she fell unconscious.

***

Being held by Sherlock was a dream. Knowing for the final time that the man he loved was truly alive, John was bristling with contentment. They had moved to the couch and had been cuddled into each other for hours without speaking. John just wanted to feel his love next to him.

“John…” Sherlock whispered his voice rumbling through his chest breaking the silence with his wonderful sound.

“Hmmm…” John hummed in response tightening his hold on the other man’s body.

Sherlock shifted until they were face to face, his eyes darting around John’s face before locking eyes “I…I…” he stammered wincing as he struggled. John looked at him with confusion opening his mouth to speak but found the other man’s finger silencing him by planting itself over John’s lips.

“I love you John…” Sherlock said breathlessly.

John was shocked hearing those words coming from his mouth. He couldn’t help but stare, his mouth falling open slightly. Sherlock squirmed uncomfortably, his eyes looking away nervously. When John still didn’t speak Sherlock began untangling himself from the doctor looking hurt.

John tightened around Sherlock stilling him. Reaching out the smaller man gripped Sherlock’s chin dragging his face forward until their lips met. It was incredible! Sherlock’s mouth was stiff for a moment before melting against John’s. Minutes drug on and John flicked out his tongue against Sherlock’s lips, asking for permission. With a quiet moan the consulting detective’s mouth opened sucking John’s tongue inside.

A battle of tongues began as they fought to control the kiss. Sherlock finally dominated twisting his tongues around John’s. He slowed the heated pressure down before pulling away, resting their foreheads together. John stared into Sherlock’s eyes watching the growing arousal blooming “God Sherlock,” the doctor moaned, “You don’t know how much I love you.” A smile was forming on Sherlock’s face, “I’ve wanted to tell you for so long.” John kissed the other man’s nose.

“How long?” Sherlock asked his eyes lighting up.

“How long what?” John asked unsure of what he was asking.

Sherlock’s smile was radiant on his face “How long have you loved me?” John gapped, fumbling for an answer. He had never really thought about it.

“Almost since I met you to be honest,” he finally replied knowing it was true, “What about you?”

“It started when you shot the cabbie,” Sherlock answered instantly, “risking your life for mine, willing to kill someone for me…it was incredible!” John smiled nestling further into Sherlock, letting his body relax fully.

Suddenly a sense of panic struck him, John’s thoughts jumping to Mary. He felt like something was wrong and an urge to call Mary was starting to overwhelm him. Sherlock saw the change overcome John and he pulled away looking concerned “What is it?”

“I don’t know,” John said feeling confused as he sat back from Sherlock, “I need to call Mary.”

Sherlock frowned but shifted until he could reach a cell phone on the coffee table. Handing it to John he watched him dialing. The doctor sat tangled in Sherlock’s lap listening as the phone rang. Growling in frustration and growing worry when the ringing stopped and went to voicemail, John jab the screen, redialing. Six times he tried her number but each time it went to voicemail.

John was now a ball of nerves, unease, and worry mixing “I need to go to Mary’s flat,” he told Sherlock. Without a question he stood pulling John to his feet. After a few minutes of pulling on coats and shoes the two headed towards the street and into a cab.

“John what’s going on?” Sherlock asked as the car sped through London.

John shook his head dialing Mary’s number again “I don’t know, I just suddenly felt like something was wrong with Mary.” the phone went to voicemail, “This isn’t like her!” he shouted at the phone irritated. The cabbie glanced back at them with irritation. Sherlock took the phone from him.

“Maybe she’s asleep,” he suggested John shook his head again wishing that were true.

“You don’t understand Mary is the lightest sleeper I know. If she knows you’re going to move she’ll wake up, she can’t sleep through anything.”

Sherlock leaned into John and wrapped an arm around the smaller man’s shoulders “Everything will be alright. Mary is fine.”

John wanted to believe him but his brain was screaming that something was terribly wrong and he had to get to Mary now. Thankfully the cab ride was short. John was out of the car before it could fully stop leaving Sherlock behind to pay the fair.

Pulling out the flat key John went to unlock the door but found it was already open. The door was barely open but it was definitely open there was no doubt. John didn’t pause as he pushed it and rushed inside. No lights were on in the flat and not a sound could be heard.

Moving quickly John crossed the room towards the kitchen and stopped when the strong smell of blood hit him. His heart was racing as he flipped the switch turning on the lights.

The first thing he saw was blood, bright and hot, stinking through the flat. Mary was lying surrounded by the stuff, her clothes drenched and stained. Terror raced through John.

“Mary!” John shouted rushing forward and throwing himself to his knees beside her. Mary didn’t look to be breathing or alive but he didn’t give that a thought as him pressed his hands roughly on the bleeding shoulder. Mary gave a scream, it was weak but John felt slight relief in the noise.

“Mary you must stay awake, can you hear me?” He was speaking in her ear.  John didn’t wait for an answer as he fiddled in his pocket, fumbling for his phone.

“John…” Mary started to say when John pressed down harder on her shoulder causing a weak cry from her. Frantic John barely managed to call for an ambulance. Dropping the phone to the floor he wrapped his fingers around her wrist seeking a pulse.

It was weak but it was there.

 “Mary stay awake can you hear me?” John repeated as he pushed his weight into her shoulder again, applying more pressure. Mary didn’t react, her eyes stared at him. She blinked slowly at him, the blood loss was obviously effecting her greatly.

 “Mary…”John whispered tears rolling down his face. Touching her face lightly with his fingers, he trailed blood from her shoulder over her cheek. Her breathing was slowing but Mary’s eyes never left his.

“John,” Mary breathed fighting to speak. John held his breath eyes burning into hers, “Love…you…” she managed. John saw a small smile on her lips as Mary’s eyes shut.

“Mary! Wake up! Please, open your eyes!” John cried leaning closer to her body. A hand touching his shoulder didn’t register to John as he pleaded with Mary’s still body.

“John,” Sherlock’s warm baritone breathed in his ear, “she’s still breathing, just focus on that.” He spoke the truth. John calmed his racing thoughts enough to watch the slight movement of Mary’s chest. Keeping a hand pressed to the shoulder and the other wrapped around her wrist to keep tabs on her pulse, John waited.

When the paramedics finally arrived a few minutes later John was on the verge of breaking down. Mary’s pulse had started to drop as he waited. There was nothing he could do.

_I can’t lose her!_

“You won’t.” Sherlock said firmly.

John turned as the paramedics worked to stabilize Mary realizing he had spoken aloud.

“You can’t know that,” John whispered wiping the tears off his face. Sherlock gave him a small reassuring smile.

“I know enough to see Mary is a fighter, she is strong and she’ll push through this.” He told the doctor. John gaped at the man before him. Sherlock in one day had changed John’s whole outlook of him with words like that.

“Sherlock,” John sobbed about to speak but looked back as the paramedic’s started lifting Mary’s and rolling quickly from the room. His next words were forgotten as he ran after them, jumping in the back of the ambulance.

The ride to the hospital was a blur but when John jumped out of the back Sherlock was waiting. They followed the running paramedic’s, wheeling Mary through the doors. Yells for doctors as they hurried, forced John and Sherlock further back from Mary.

“Sirs you’ll have to wait out here,” one of the nurses told them, stepping in front to stop the two, “she’ll have to go into surgery and you aren’t allowed in there.”

John opened his mouth to protest but closed it. Looking around the woman he caught a glimpse of Mary with a breathing tube in her throat as her entourage pushed through swinging double doors and disappeared. Sherlock’s hand snaked around John’s waist, tugging his limp body closer.

“John there isn’t anything we can do but rely on Mary’s strength and the skill of those doctors.” Sherlock murmured leading John towards a private waiting room, ignoring the nurse’s protest. Forcing John into a chair, Sherlock released him to close the door firmly.

John felt numb “We need to call Greg!” he muttered.

Sherlock stalked back over to the doctor crouching before him “Who?” he looked seriously confused.

John glared feeling rolling rage “Lestrade! Sherlock for God sakes!” he snapped, patting his pockets for his phone but coming up empty.

Sherlock grabbed a hand, stilling John’s search “You dropped it back at Mary’s flat. Borrow mine.” The taller man said setting the device on the doctor’s knee.

“Thank you,” John said squeezing Sherlock’s hand and keeping a hold of it while grabbing up the phone.

Greg answered on the fifth ring “What do you want Sherlock?” he asked grumpily.

“Greg its John,” the doctor said there was a moment of silence before the D.I. spoke.

“John what’s wrong?”

“You need to come to Bart’s now, it’s Mary,” John didn’t want to say too much until the man was in front of him.

“Mary! John what’s going on? Why is Mary in the hospital?” Greg sounded frantic.

John reframed from growling in frustration “Please just come down here.” He replied and hung up.

Later John would admit that he had been rather rude but he didn’t want to tell something like that to Greg over the phone. He knew that Mary and Lestrade’s relationship was new but John could see that Mary loved the D.I. already. The doctor suspected that Greg felt the same but didn’t realize it just yet.

It took Lestrade less than ten minutes for him to arrive. He burst into the waiting room “Where is she?” Greg asked breathlessly dressed in sweats and long sleeved shirt. His hair stuck up all over his head, he had been sleeping.

John stood and opened his mouth but nothing came out. Staring at the detective John felt a fresh wave of fear for Mary and hot tears started rolling down his face. Greg’s face paled and he fell against the wall.

Sherlock crossed the room to the man “Greg listen,” he instructed grabbing the other man’s attention, “Mary was shot in her flat earlier this morning. We found her but she had already lost a lot of blood. I suspect her artery was nicked and she is now in surgery. Breath Greg, don’t need you passing out on the floor. She will be fine.” Sherlock gripped Lestrade’s shoulder giving it a gentle squeeze.

“She was shot?” Greg asked glancing to John who was still playing statue. Sherlock followed the gaze for a moment before returning it to Lestrade, giving him a curt nod. “Why?” The D.I. asked tears beginning to form in his eyes. Sherlock shook his head.

“I suspect it might be the same people who drugged and put John in the bonfire.”

Those words snapped John from his trance. It all made sense! Whoever had kidnapped him before must have known where John had been staying. Mary must have been at home at the wrong time when they came looking for him!

“It’s my fault,” John breathed falling into his chair, “it’s all my fault. Mary got shot because of me. Mary is going to…”

“No John she’s not.” Sherlock snapped moving to stand before the doctor, “do not think for a minute that this happened because of you. This wasn’t you!” the steadfast gaze of Sherlock’s pierced through John captivating him. “You are not to blame!” Sherlock held the doctor’s eyes with a glare before turning back towards Greg who was still slumped against the far wall.

“Greg, you and John need to pull your selves together. Mary needs you right now. You two need to be strong for her, she needs you both.” Sherlock spoke as he led the D.I. over to a chair next to John.

Greg looked over at John and John looked over at Greg, an understanding seemed to pass between them. Lestrade reached out a hand and the doctor took it firmly, squeezing it gently.

The D.I. looked up at the still standing Sherlock “We’ll be here for her, we’ll find the bloody bastards who did this, and we’ll make them pay.”

***

It was several hours before any news about Mary was relayed. Sherlock held a vigil over Greg and John who had fallen asleep once they had calmed enough. The second the door opened allowing a tired looking doctor to enter both men were on their feet.

“Morning gentlemen,” the doctor greeted with a reassuring smile, “the surgery went well, no complications.” A majority to the tension left the room, “Mary’s artery was nicked as the bullet went through. No internal bleeding and the bullet missed bones which is good on recovery time. She will recover fully with little scarring.” The man looked around taking in the relieved faces, “Any questions gentlemen? If not I can take you to see her for a bit.” No one had questions.

Without another word the doctor led the small group down the hall, through the double door, and into the ICU. “We’ll keep her here over night to make sure everything is alright then we’ll move her to a more private room but we’ll only keep her about a week before she can go home and finish recovery there.” The doctor spoke as they moved further down the hall. Stopping the man turned to the group “You’ll need to keep it down and she’s on heavy painkillers so she won’t be very coherent for a few hours.” He gave them a soft smile before heading off.

John entered the room first and had to resist the urge to wince when he saw the machines Mary was hooked up to.

_Just a heart monitor…_

The doctor side of John had to assure as he moved closer to the bed. Mary looked to be asleep as the three men looked over her. Opening her eyes, John saw how tired she looked but she smiled “I got shot.” Mary whispered waving her hand at her heavily bandaged shoulder.

“How are you feeling?” John asked finding his voice and surging forward to grasp her hand, the hand he never thought he would touch again, “Are you in any pain?”

Mary closed her eyes, her brows wrinkling as if in pain “Shhh…John…you talk too fast.” She murmured before opening her eyes again. Taking a deep breath John repeated his first question.

“I’m tired,” Mary answered her smile growing, “but I can’t feel my body, that’s so weird.” She giggled as she looked at Sherlock and Greg. “Greg!” Mary cried waving a hand at him to come closer. John moved aside letting the other man through.

The D.I. took the hand that John had dropped “Hi Mar,” Lestrade smiled softly bending to kiss her hand.

“There is he is,” Mary murmured, “there’s my hot man.” Greg blushed at her words, “I was sad Greg, I thought I wouldn’t see you again.” She frowned, her eyes drifting off towards the far corner.

The color drained from Greg’s face and he opened his mouth to speak but Mary’s eyes looked at Sherlock, bringing the smile back to her face “Sherlock!” Mary said. Sherlock nodded giving her a small smile. “William Scott Sherlock Holmes, look at him with his fantastic cheekbones.” She smiled fondly at him receiving a glare from the taller man. Greg and John couldn’t help but chuckle at that.

“You know Sherlock it made me so sad when John first told me about you,” Mary spoke softly starting to fall asleep, “I could see how much he loved you and it broke my heart when you were dead that John wouldn’t get to feel that love.” A few tears rolled down her face, “and now he will! He’ll get all the love he deserves.” Mary’s heavy lidded eyes looked at John then at Sherlock, “that’s good…I’m going to sleep now…” and she did.


	18. On the Hunt

Greg growled in frustration.

_Nothing! Absolutely nothing!_

He had been over the CCTV tapes countless times and nothing new came up. Even sitting down to watch with John and Sherlock had done nothing. They saw the man completely covered in black enter Mary’s flat and then watched him leave. They tried following him but the shooter knew where the cameras were and disappeared in a blind spot.

Even Mycroft, Sherlock’s brother, couldn’t help.

_The bloody government can’t even help!_

Normally it would have been funny but when it came down to Mary, nothing about the situation was funny. Greg sighed rubbing his tired eyes into the palms of his hands. Too many sleepless nights full of worry and always on edge, Lestrade was exhausted.

It had only been a couple of days but it still felt like an eternity. Mary was doing fine, well better than fine. She was healing quiet quickly. Greg was debating inviting Mary to stay with him until he was certain that she was safe or somehow getting her to invite him to stay at her flat. Though he could always just camp on her couch without her consent. 

John had moved back to Baker Street, somewhat anyway. He spent a majority of his time settled in beside Mary’s bed, holding her hand and talking calmly to her while Sherlock stood nearby. Greg hadn’t had a quiet moment alone with her and it irritated him.

_Don’t be selfish!_

The D.I. couldn’t help it, he was a very possessive person at times and when it came to Mary…well…Greg already knew he was deeply in love with the woman. He had never felt this way not even for his ex-wife. This love was stronger, more powerful, and it had a tight grip on Greg. He had only come to the realization when John had called him and told him Mary was in the hospital.

John’s words over the phone had nearly broken Greg and he had rushed to the hospital fearing the worse. Seeing the mess John was had scared the D.I., the only other time he had seen the doctor like that was when…Sherlock had jumped. Hearing Mary had been shot took all the strength from Greg and he had collapsed against the wall to keep from hitting the floor.

Sherlock had been the voice of reason in the situation and Lestrade was still impressed that the man had been so gentle, not his usual arrogant self. Greg had noticed the change in the younger man since his return. Mary had told the D.I. about Sherlock’s appearance at their dinner and how he had acted, it hadn’t surprised Greg. But seeing the man now, Sherlock had changed for John. He had morphed into a lighter side of himself to please John. Lestrade truly felt that the two men were made for each other. John was a wonderful, decent human being who had completely shattered after Sherlock’s death and Sherlock could be cruel and unfeeling but in the year of meeting John he had become humanized.

Lestrade had been awed by the transformation and hadn’t completely understood it until he had come to know John better. He couldn’t fathom a life without the two men. 

Pulling himself from his thoughts Greg looked back to the computer screen in front of him, debating on watching the video again. The D.I. sighed in defeat, no, no more tonight. He was going to clock out and go visit Mary before visiting hours were up.


	19. Taken

“I don’t remember much,” Mary admitted a few days later. Everyone had been avoiding asking her, wanting her to be as comfortable as she could be.

“Oh?” John asked trying not to sound too interested even if he wanted nothing more than to find whoever hurt her.

Mary watched him sitting in a chair next to her bed. She was lying on her side cautious of all the tubes and wires still hooked to her arms. “I was asleep when I heard a noise. When I came out I saw someone standing in the kitchen, I thought it was you then whoever it was shot me.”

John knew that much. He, Greg, and Sherlock had been over the CCTV tapes provided by Mycroft and they couldn’t get much from the footage. Leaning forward John took her hand, squeezing it gently “We’ll find whoever did this.”

“Sherlock thinks it was the same person who put you in the bonfire,” Mary whispered taking comfort in the hand in hers. John winced lowering his eyes to look at their hands.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“It’s my fault Mary,” John told her. She snorted squeezing his hand and drawing his eyes back to hers, the smile on her face was soft.

“It definitely wasn’t your fault,” Mary assured and she shook her head when John tried to argue. “So I get to leave tomorrow!” she said excitedly. John smiled knowing she had changed the subject for his sake.

“Yea but I’m going into work for a few hours to catch up on things so it won’t be until later.” He reminded her receiving an irritated huff.

“What if I check myself out!” Mary joked John shrugged.

“If you really want to, you can.” He told her smiling. She smiled before giggling, “Party pooper.”

***

Mary sighed, lounging against her bed. She was going home in a few hours and time was moving too slowly. Mary was contemplating leaving early and waiting for John to get home or surprising him at work. She also knew that if she did he wouldn’t be happy, surprised yes but not happy.

John had left the day before just after visiting hours had ended with the promise he had be back to pick her up after work. Mary mused, what would she do now? John had moved back in with Sherlock. She smiled happily at that thought also getting a giddy feeling in her stomach.

As Mary relaxed on the verge of dozing her thoughts turned to the events that lead her here. Over the last week she had been searching for some clue to her mysterious attacker. Could it really be someone who was after John, the one that tried to burn him? Mary cringed at the idea. Who would want to hurt sweet, gentle John? Mary sighed whoever it was, it probably had to do with Sherlock. Poor man, why not add more guilt to that man’s plate.

As she thought the door opened but she was stuck in her mind and didn’t look up for a moment. The sound of feet hitting the floor pulled Mary free and she looked to see who it was.

 Mary stared too terrified and dumbstruck to speak. She had to blink a few times just to make sure she was awake and not stuck in a nightmare. It was Ryan, her psychotic ex! He had changed very little in the last three years. His brown hair was cut short and a small goatee sprouted from his chin. Every part of Mary fought to call for help, but her voice was caught and she had nothing to defend herself with.

"Hello love you've been hiding," the horrifically familiar man spoke a small triumphant grin on his face. His dark eyes roaming over her with satisfaction, Mary opened her mouth to scream. Ryan pulled out a gun and waved it at her "None of that dear. Don't want to ruin a lovely reunion." Ryan said moving closer to the bed.

Mary eyed the gun and realization came over her "it was you!" she whispered not really sure how she knew.

Ryan glanced at the firearm "Not exactly but yes. My man was supposed to grab you but the idiot panicked." He snarled frowning for a brief moment before the wicked grin was back "Don't worry love, he paid for his mistake."

Mary paled knowing exactly what Ryan was saying "what do you want?" She muttered glancing over at the camera in the corner of the room wondering if there was some way she could signal for help.

Ryan leaned closer bringing his face inches from Mary's "You of course," those words made her shiver, "You left me Mary and that hurt."

Mary glared "because you're a sick bastard!" She snapped flinching when Ryan brought a hand up like he was going to hit her. The hit she expected didn’t come instead Ryan’s fingers stroked her cheek.

“You get that one for free dear but be warned.” The threat was clear Mary wasn’t about to press her luck.

Ryan eyed her waving the gun absentmindedly back and forth before he seemed to remember what he wanted “We really must be going, can’t waste any more time.” He pressed forward drawing a syringe from his pocket. Mary’s eyes widened seeing the needle, Ryan must have seen the look “This is only something to make you a little more compliant.” He said sticking it in her arm.

The drugs took less than a minute to take effect Mary began to feel drowsy and sluggish. She barely felt when Ryan carried her from her bed onto a waiting wheel chair “Relax love we’ll be on our way soon,” he spoke in Mary’s ear. Her mouth didn’t want to work so she remained quiet.

The white of the hospital blurred by as Ryan pushed Mary down the halls. No one stopped them or spoke to them and it wasn’t long until they were outside. Mary found herself able to form a few words “Where…go?” she was rather proud of those words.

Ryan came around to kneel in front of her hands resting on Mary’s knees “Oh don’t worry your little head dear,” his thumbs stroking slowly, “We’re going somewhere no one can take you away from me ever again.” Mary’s brain swirled the words around slowly before they sank in. What little fear she could muster flared through her system and Mary quickly headed towards unconsciousness.

_John…Greg…Sherlock…_


	20. Fear

managed to get off half an hour earlier.

_Won’t Mary be surprised!_

He chuckled to himself John was in a good mood he still had lingering thoughts on Mary’s shooter but today was a good day. Everyone was safe for the moment and it felt right. John would take care of Mary and make sure she was safe, maybe even find some way to get here to move into 221B since there was an extra bedroom now. 

He couldn’t help but blush at that new occurrence. Sherlock had insisted that they share a bedroom for no particular reason and he wouldn’t give one. John smiled he was now in a loving relationship with the man he loved and things could only go up from here, right?

John thought over his relationship. Sherlock had indeed changed over the last two years and seemed to dance around John like he was fragile, he didn’t mind. The genius had even begun to take less threatening cases just to stay out of harm’s way. John liked the changes to some degree.

The affection that Sherlock had started to rain down on the doctor was surprising. On multiple occasions when John had been sitting quietly reading while Sherlock was experimenting. The taller man had stopped what he was doing only to climb into John’s lap, disrupting everything. Sherlock wouldn’t say a word as he wrapped his lanky form around the smaller man. John only protested the first time and now he enjoyed those small moments Sherlock shared with him.

John’s feet carried him down the street towards the hospital luckily it was a short distance from the clinic. Still in his thoughts the doctor barely noted his surroundings.

Sherlock had begun to have actual conversations with John when they were alone and not about work but about himself. John had come to like hearing Sherlock asking him such domestic questions like ‘how was your day?’, and ‘did you eat enough at lunch?’ It had started to feel like any other relationship.

Of course Sherlock couldn’t change completely he still insulted people not John as much but on occasion. He still wouldn’t eat or sleep during cases and Mary’s shooting as well as John’s bonfire experience had the consulting detective on edge. John had noticed that somehow Sherlock had a fondness for Mary.

One night during Mary’s recovery stay at the hospital John had come just after work to see her and had found Sherlock sitting in a chair next to the bed. The tall man hadn’t seen John enter so engrossed in watching Mary sleep when he finally noticed Sherlock looked slightly embarrassed. John only smiled at him and crossed the room to kiss Sherlock lightly on the forehead.

“I owe her,” Sherlock had told John later.

The doctor looked at him confused “Owe her what?” John didn’t understand.

Sherlock sighed “Mary I owe her, without her you wouldn’t…” his voice trailed off and John felt guilt and shame wash through him.

John stared at the other man for a few moments “I owe her too,” he finally managed drawing Sherlock’s eyes.  “If I didn’t have her yes, I wouldn’t be here. I love her and I couldn’t imagine my life without her.”

Sherlock gave a small secret smile that was John’s, only for John “She is a strong woman,” he concluded stunning John for a second, having only heard Sherlock call one other person strong.

“That she is,” he lapsed into silence after that.

Bringing himself back to his walk to the hospital John found he was nearly there and a renewed excitement flooded him. Hurrying inside he made the familiar trip up to Mary’s room.

“Hope you’re ready to go,” John was saying as he opened the door. The room was empty nothing of Mary or her stuff was left. Looking confused around the room John started to wonder.

_Probably checked herself out, got tired of waiting._

John thought in irritation as he turned from the room heading over to the nurse’s station “Excuse me?”

“Yes sir, how can I help you?” a small petit red headed nurse asked from behind the counter. Her smile was polite and inviting.

“Would you happen to know where Mary Morstan is?”

The nurse nodded “One moment,” she said glancing through some paper’s on a clip board, “ah yes she was checkout around noon.” The woman provided looking up at John with the same smile.

John huffed in frustration “Check herself out,” he muttered moving to turn away.

“No sir someone checked her out,” the nurse told him stopping any further movement. John looked at the woman thinking quickly. Sherlock wouldn’t check Mary out and Lestrade was working until late tonight, so who?

“Who was it, do you remember?” John asked wondering who Mary would willingly go with.

“Her brother,” she replied, “said he came all the way from Scotland to surprise her. Isn’t that sweet!” the nurse added. Color drained from John’s face as fear started to set in.

_Brother?_

“Mary doesn’t have a brother,” John told the woman calmly finally pulling the smile from her face, she looked confused as she glanced down through the papers again.

“Said his name was Ryan Morstan.” The nurse supplied and John’s heart stopped.

_Ryan!_

The name seared itself into John’s brain and he almost felt breathless. Mary was gone! Mary had been taken! Mary was in danger! On the verge of hyperventilating John fumbled for his phone ignoring the nurse who was now speaking to him, trying to comfort him. Pressing the first number he could think of John pressed the phone to his ear attempting to calm himself and fight off the impending panic attack.

“John,” Sherlock greeted when he answered the phone.

“Sherlock…hospital now!” John managed before the tight feeling in his chest made it almost impossible to breath.

Dropping his phone to the floor and catching himself on the counter, John barely prevented himself from collapsing as he gasped for air. The frantic people around him were grabbing and forcing John around but he was lost. Greif, pain, fear, anger swirled through his mind. John was stuck, fighting, and sick with worry and loss. Mary was gone!

_He’s going to kill her!_

That thought brought on a white noise drowning out everything else. John couldn’t hear the people around him yelling for oxygen or the sound of his struggling breaths. Something was pulled over his face covering his nose and mouth, cool air brushed his face. It became easier to breath but John couldn’t do or think about anything but the gripping fear he had.

_Mary…_

The name kept chanting barely audible over the white noise that was starting to become deafening. John gripped his pant legs trying to pull himself from the suffocating wave of emotion.

A pair of strong hands gripped John’s shoulders and he struggled weakly but his oxygen deprived brain couldn’t function.

“John,” the soft familiar call caught his attention breaking through the fog and white noise.

“John,” it was getting louder and John could identify the voice.

_Sherlock_

John would know that voice anywhere and he would follow it anywhere.

“John, you need to breath.” Sherlock warm baritone encouraged light soft hands stroking through John’s hair.

John focused on the voice and a sense of calm began to ease its way over him. As his brain cleared the doctor noted an oxygen mask covered his mouth and nose. John was sitting on the floor, back pressed against the nurse’s station. Sherlock was crouched before him one hand running through John’s hair and the other holding tightly to one of the doctor’s hands.

“John?” Sherlock spoke his voice barely above a whisper. The moon lit eyes searching John’s face.

Finally completely in control of his emotions John pulled the mask from his face “Sherlock,” his love’s name on his tongue was enough to quail the panic attack, “Mary’s been taken.”

Sherlock froze, eyes fixed on John’s face. He looked stunned with something else flashing through his eyes “Who?” Sherlock asked.

John took a deep breath “Call Lestrade, tell him to bring everyone we need to find her before…” he stopped the words from coming out. He could say them and the thought was almost bringing on another panic attack.

Sherlock leaned forward kissing John’s forehead “I already called Lestrade on my way in, he should be here any minute.”

As if on cue Greg marched in followed by a squad of heavily armed men, they took up a stance as if expecting an attack. Greg moved forward crouched low with a gun held ready “Sherlock where are they?” he asked.

John gave Sherlock a confused look which the tall man ignored “I may have stretched the truth a bit to get you here Lestrade,” he confessed.

Greg stared hard at Sherlock before lowering his gun and straightening “Stand down!” he shouted to the team. He glared down at the tall man still crouched before John. His eyes drifted over to John noting the oxygen mask “John,” Greg said with concern kneeling next to the doctor.

John wanted to speak, to tell him but his voice didn’t want to work. Sherlock opened his mouth to speak John’s hand squeezed his silencing him. “Greg,” the doctor breathed his heart rising into his throat, “Mary’s been taken.” The D.I. fell back, sitting down hard.

“What do you mean?” Lestrade questioned.

“Mary was taken,” John repeated, “It was Ryan,” Greg’s mouth fell open in horror, “He found her.”


	21. No Escape

“Mary.”

Mary felt herself being drawn towards consciousness. Her body felt heavy and bruised, the dull pain was a deep throb.

“Mary,” the calling voce was haunting and Mary wanted it to be a nightmare but it wasn’t. It was a waking terror something she couldn’t escape.

“Mary don’t keep me waiting love,”

Full awake now with her eyes firmly closed, Mary prepared herself. Slowly she opened her eyes. Mary found herself in a dimly lit room. She felt her wrists were bound along with her ankles and to top it off she was naked under a thin blanket.

Ryan was standing over her “there’s my sweet girl,” he spoke softly when he saw her eyes were open, “hope you aren’t too upset with me.” Mary glared in response. Ryan clicked his tongue leaning closer “Don’t be like that dear,” his warm breath drifted over her face smelling strongly of tobacco, “you remember how much fun we use to have?”

Mary didn’t answer continuing to glare. Ryan smirked, sitting down on the edge of the bed “But you had a secret. Yes you were hiding something, what a naughty girl.” He chuckled brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I’ve spent the last three years hunting for you and then what do I see…” Ryan smiled pinching Mary’s nose lightly, “I see your cute little face on the front page of the newspaper after rescuing some doctor from a bonfire.”

Mary’s heart seized. A photo in the newspaper had brought about her downfall her helping save her best friend had sacrificed her hidden face. If she ever saw John again, she would never tell him.

“It was my lucky day,” Ryan sang as he started playing with her hair, running his fingers slowly through the strands. “Setting up my plan from there was simple. You my love have gotten slow.  It didn’t take me long to find you or that doctor friend of yours,” he paused, “he is just a friend?”

Mary still didn’t speak.

Ryan shrugged “No matter I’m going to kill him anyway,” Mary scuffed mentally knowing that would be an impossible feat. The man suddenly leaned in pressing his nose into her hair and breathing in deeply “I followed you around, I learned your routine and I made my move.” He hissed into Mary’s ear. His tongue flicked out causing her to flinched away in disgust.

Ryan chuckled his hands sliding down to cup Mary’s face “As you know I had a little mishap with a man of mine who got a little trigger happy but it only side tracked and I had to make up a new plan taking matters into my own hands. Everything worked out and now you’re here.”

Ryan’s fingers slid down from her face easing down and kept going. Mary panicked knowing if she didn’t act in the next few seconds something would happen that couldn’t be fixed.

“Ryan,” she kept her voice steady and smooth fighting the fear that was threatening to overwhelm, “Babe untie me so I can touch you,” Mary begged leaning her face closer to him.

Ryan eyed her suspiciously. Letting out a small whisper and arching herself off the bed slightly “Please it’s been so long,” Mary moaned watching his eyes widen, “I dream of the nights when we made love, so tender and sweet.” She fought to keep control of her emotions and to keep her act going.

Ryan’s hands cupped her face again and pressed against her for a kiss. Mary concentrated on seducing him and opened her mouth to let his tongue invade. It was very unpleasant and only thoughts of Greg kept her from biting.

Ryan pulled away keeping his forehead on hers “Mary you have no idea the torture of three years without you. I should punish you for that pain,” Mary shivered in fear which Ryan mistook, “We have time for that later love.” He told her stroking her cheek with his thumb.

“Untie me,” Mary pressed flicking her tongue out across his lips.

The lust that flashed through his eyes told Mary she had triumphed. Without another word Ryan reached up and began untying the bands around her wrists. With her hands free Mary didn’t hesitate a moment before using all her strength and punching Ryan in the face, knocking him off the bed. Moving to get up Mary still felt resistance forgetting her ankles were still tied to the bed.

“Bitch!” Ryan cried jumping back on the bed. Mary went to hit him again but still weakened from the drug her strength failed. His hands blocked the hit before wrapping around her neck in a tight grip. It wasn’t suffocating but the pressure was restricting. “Still up to your tricks Mary I won’t have it!” he snapped, quickly retying her hands.

Ryan pulled away standing his glare with piercing “I didn’t want to have to punish you just yet but you’ve pushed me,” he growled ripping the blanket from her body. “I don’t enjoy this, I don’t want to hurt you but you need to understand you are mine!”

Mary watched the crazed man turn to a table on the other side of the room. She couldn’t see what he was doing but when he faced her again, Ryan held a short whip. “You will learn Mary even if I have to force you,” His voice was stiff as he stalked forward cracking the whip skillfully.


	22. Rescue

Sherlock felt helpless. John and Greg were equally on the verge of breaking and he didn’t know what to do. Seeing John in the midst of a panic attack earlier had scared Sherlock. Remaining calm for the doctor’s sake had been difficult and Sherlock did what he could to bring John back.

After Lestrade’s arrival and the news dropped, Sherlock had once again taking on the role of commander of the two older men. He had Lestrade’s men sweep the hospital knowing full well they wouldn’t find anything but it was progress. After the three men took over the security room and started scanning video files.

It wasn’t hard to find the recording of Mary’s room. Bringing the video up and rewinding to the point when Ryan entered the room, the three pressed closer to the video. Ryan had his back to the camera and all they could see was Mary’s face. The fuzzy, pixelated image didn’t provide a clear view but they all could make out the horror on Mary’s face.

“He’s got a gun,” Sherlock relayed to the other, he noted to small movement of Ryan’s arm as he drew the weapon.  Mary’s mouth moved but the camera had no sound so the words were lost to the men.

John growled “If only we had sound!” he snapped.

“She said ‘it was you’.” Sherlock told him and the two men looked at him skeptical, “I can read lips even ones as fuzzy as this.” He assured them watching to see if Mary spoke again ignoring the looks from the men.

“What do you want?” Sherlock spoke seeing the words being formed by the recorded woman. Ryan moved on the screen his back blocking most of Mary’s face. Sherlock sighed in frustration “I won’t be accurate with him in the way.” He said in disappointment.

“Because you're a sick bastard?” Sherlock tried guessing from the partially formed words. He notice the two men tense up when Ryan’s arm went back as if to hit Mary, she held her ground flinching slightly but unafraid for a moment.  He didn’t hit her instead his finger caressed her face.

They watched Ryan moved back once again giving them a good look of Mary’s face. “What is that?” Lestrade questioned seeing Ryan pull something from his jacket.

“That’s a syringe.” John answered as Ryan injected Mary.

She didn’t speak again the drug looked to be very effective and they watched Ryan leave the room to return with a wheelchair and move Mary into it, she didn’t struggle. They had to switch to different cameras to watch Ryan pushing Mary through the halls and into a car.

They never caught Ryan’s face.

“Bloody waste of time,” Lestrade growled spinning sharply from the monitors.

“Greg we can’t give up.” John called as the man stomped from the room. The doctor shot a pleading look at Sherlock before running after the D.I.

The taller man remained in front of the monitors rewinding the footage to look Ryan over.

_Young, mid-thirties, addict…dealer? No…more important, overseer._

Sherlock guessed the man was a part of a drug cartel.

_So this Ryan has come a long way in the last three years._

Sherlock was stalling and he knew it. There was only one person who had the power to help them and he didn’t want to admit it. Sherlock knew if he made the call, not only would he save an innocent woman’s life but he would have to lower himself to get the information he needed. The tall man ground his teeth together hoping some other more enticing idea would come to him, short of killing himself…again.

Sherlock came up with nothing and forced himself to pull out his phone. His fingers hovered over the screen of the plastic device begging for something else to appear to save him from making that call.

Nothing came and nothing would.

Jabbing angrily at the phone Sherlock found the number and brought the thing to his ear.

The ringing went on for what felt like hours and Sherlock knew that the intended was savoring the moment before answering. When the ringing stopped and the soft click indicated that the call had been answered, Sherlock waited not wanting to be the first one to speak.

“Brother dear,” the voice purred through the line sounding pompous and amused.

Sherlock gripped the phone tightly, resisting the urge to throw it. He didn’t speak just yet letting his concern for John calm him enough to force the greeting from his mouth.

“Mycroft.”

* * *

 

When the lashes stopped Mary was barely conscious. The pain radiating through her body was intense even breathing was sending fresh shockwaves, making her nauseous. Ryan’s footsteps echoed off the walls as he drew closer to the bed. Mary lay still not wanting to jar her battered form, her eyes closed to the world.

“Love, can you hear me?” Ryan asked.

Mary didn’t speak her voice raw and broken from screaming. Cool fingers brushed the new marks on her stomach causing her to jerk, emulating a straggled cry from her.

“Mary,” Ryan breathed his warm breath grazed passed her ear, “See what you made me do?” he paused letting the words hang in the air. This would have been a moment where Mary would normally say something but she was afraid. “I don’t want you hurt you sweetheart but you pushed me…you need to learn and understand…you are mine!”

Ryan gripped Mary’s arm making her jerk again, croaking out in pain “Mine! Mary, understand? Have you learned that?” he held her tighter until she gave him a shaking nod.

His hand was gone and Mary was weeping from the pain and fear. Ryan kissed her on the forehead “Good girl,” she wanted nothing more than to break his neck.

“Now let’s see to those wounds, don’t want them to get infected.”

***

“Little brother,” Mycroft sneered through the phone.

Sherlock took a deep breath “I need your help.” he hated this.

Mycroft’s chuckle over the line almost made the youngest Holmes growl with irritation. “Oh I know,” the snide tone of those words set Sherlock on edge, “I’ve been watching you dear brother. You and your little pals seem to be under constant threat and it’s rather tiresome.”

“Yes well, I hate to drag you away from your failed attempt at another diet,” Sherlock snapped satisfied with his contribution, “But the adults have a little problem.”

Mycroft was silent for a minute before his voice sounded “What do you want Sherlock?” The superior tone was gone and Sherlock couldn’t help the triumphant grin that spread across his face.

“I need you to find Mary Morstan for me. She was kidnapped from Bart’s earlier this afternoon and be quick about it.”  He relayed knowing his brother was very efficient when it came to finding people.

“Mary Morstan, Dr. Watson’s sobriety companion?” Mycroft asked sounding somewhat bored.

Sherlock sighed heavily making sure it was audible over the phone “The very same, please keep up Mycroft!”

The elder Holmes hummed in disapproval through the line “Very well brother, give me a few hours and I will find your missing junkie.” With that the line went end.

Sherlock gratefully lowered the phone and stowed it in his pocket. He estimated Mycroft would get back to him in approximately three hours until then Sherlock was on watch duty.

Leaving the security room Sherlock looked around for John and Lestrade. He found them in Mary’s hospital room. Lestrade was seated in the chair next to the empty bed, staring at the space that would have held Mary. John stood near the door looking grim as he looked over at the silent Detective Inspector.

John noticed Sherlock’s approach and glanced over managing a weak smile “Find anything?” he asked not sounding hopeful.

Sherlock shook his head looking at the back of Lestrade’s head. “He hasn’t said a word, just came in here and sat down,” John told him, “he’s in shock.”

Sherlock nodded having already deduced that “I called Mycroft,” he spoke quietly.

John turned to look at him with surprise “Really?” he sounded breathless.

Sherlock smiled “Yes, he won’t take too long in locating her.” He knew it was true.

Mycroft could do what Sherlock couldn’t do in the small window of time they had. Sherlock would have been able to find Mary but in what state? The consulting detective couldn’t lose the one thing that had kept John stable through the years. The doctor would be utterly devastated much like when Sherlock fell and the genius couldn’t risk it.

“Thank you Sherlock,” John whispered. He knew personally how much Sherlock hated relying on his brother for anything and he was touched that he had done this.

“I’ll bring her back for you John,” Sherlock promised without hesitation.

 

Three hours almost on the dot Sherlock phone rang.

The three men were still in the hospital room and no one had fallen asleep or moved much, they all had just been sitting in complete silence waiting for the phone call. Every eye locked on Sherlock as he brought the phone to his ear on the second ring.

“What did you find?” was his greeting.

“Brother dear you have no idea what you have gotten yourself into,” Mycroft purred through the line.

Sherlock huffed, glaring. “Can we please save the theatrics for a later conversation and just tell me where Mary is?’

Mycroft clicked his tongue in disapproval “Very well but you will be very interested in what I have to say later,” he paused and Sherlock resisted a growl building in his chest, “she’s being held in a small warehouse in the East End. I’ll text you the address. Good luck little brother.”

Within second after the call ended a message from Mycroft came through “We have an address!” Sherlock called sprinting from the room.

John and Lestrade were quick to follow as was the armed squad. It took a matter of five minutes to get everyone in the police cars and speeding for the warehouse.

***

Mary had passed out while Ryan had cleaned her wounds. She didn’t dream, her vision had been black and names were begin whispered at her but they were too quiet to hear. When she was snapped into consciousness, Ryan was gone and she was alone.

Fresh, clean white bandages covered her torso completely. Mary felt hallow and knew she had been dosed with drugs which at the moment she was grateful for. It took her away from the pain for a moment.

Testing her bound wrist, Mary already knew that she wasn’t going to find escaping easy especially now that she was injured. Pulling on her ankle straps, they too gave no hint to simplicity. Mary forced back the hopelessness that was threatening to consume her.

She had been hiding from Ryan for three years and had known there was a chance the man might have found her. Mary had believed for a moment that she had eluded him and was actually safe. This moment proved she had been a fool to be lulled by the normality of her life. Now she could be facing the rest of her life as a slave.

Tears pricked her eyes and Mary couldn’t keep them down anymore.

“John, Greg, Sherlock…” her voice cracked with the strain. Mary sank closer and closer to acceptance.

***

_We’re going to find her! We’re going to get her!_

John chanted in his head as they sped closer to the address. He was extremely proud of Sherlock’s selflessness he had gone above and beyond.

“We’ll be there soon,” Sherlock assured his hand resting on John’s jiggling knee.

The doctor glanced over at Greg who still had yet to speak but held a fiercely determined look so the shock had passed. Reaching out John gripped the D.I.’s clasped hands.

Lestrade blinked in surprised, looking down at the pile of hands, following John’s arm to the doctor’s face. John gave him a soft smile hoping it was encouraging. Greg stared at him for a moment before giving a curt nod and patting John’s hand. He pulled his hand back and looked out to the passing buildings.

 

Five minutes went by when the cars finally stopped, men pouring from the vehicles. The warehouse was tiny and all the rooms were searched. Sherlock and John sprinted through the rooms with Greg in tow but the placed seemed empty, not a person in sight or any signs of recent inhabitants.

“Where is she?” Lestrade asked his voice feeble.

Sherlock and John looked at each other helplessly. Where was she indeed?

“Sir!” an officer yelled.

The three men raced to find the shouting man.

“We found a hidden panel leading to another room, shots were fired sir.” The man relayed leading them to the now gaping door.

“Mary!” Greg shouted sprinting through the door. John and Sherlock bolted after him, nearly crashing into the D.I. when he spotted shortly in the new room.

Th tiny room smelled of blood.

The man from the video, Ryan had Mary wrapped tightly to his chest a gun pressed firmly to her skull. Mary had blood on her face and she was shirtless with bandages covering her chest and torso. She looked to be drugged, leaning heavily into the man holding her.

“Stay the fuck back or I swear I will end her!” Ryan shouted pulling Mary further into the room.

Lestrade was frozen staring intently at Mary “Please just let her go,” he begged.

The madman with the gun glared “Who are you?” he snapped.

“I am Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade of New Scotland Yard, please just let her go.” Greg answered.

Sherlock looked at John, mouthing ‘This needs to end soon or she will die’. John nodded and waited to see if the taller man would come up with something.

Ryan aimed to gun at Greg “You’re the one sleeping with her!” the gunmen growled.

Lestrade remained in his spot, not worried about the gun now aimed at him “Please just let her go.” He pleaded holding his hands up in surrender.

Ryan glanced at Mary then at the other men in the room “She’s mine!” he yelled pulling closer to the wall.

Mary suddenly snapped to consciousness. She elbowed Ryan in the gut sending him into the wall. In the attack the gun hit the ground but was quickly picked up by Mary and she turned, barely giving a moment to aim before she emptied the clip into Ryan’s head. The man’s face was completely unrecognizable as the last bullet entered the destroyed flesh and the body slid to the floor in a crumpled, bloody mess.

The silence that followed the sudden end was deafening.

Mary was weeping as she dropped the gun to the floor and her strength left her. Falling to her knees, she sat panting from th exertion and staring at the man that had been her nightmare.

“Mary?” Greg’s voice cracked as he moved forward.

Mary looked over her shoulder, her eyes looked hollow and John’s heart dropped. Lestrade fell on the ground beside her, touching Mary’s face gingerly with his fingers.

“Greg!” John called moving closer.

The D.I. stopped “We need to get her to an ambulance,” the doctor instructed wanting nothing more than to hold Mary just as Lestrade wanted to.

Nodding Greg moved to lift Mary gently. She gave a few cries of pain as he cradled her but didn’t protest. The men moved quickly from the room.

“An ambulance was called.” One of the waiting men announced as the group made their way through the warehouse for the outside.

A brisk wind had stirred and the sun had set completely. Sherlock swept his coat off and laid it over Mary. She winced as the fabrics weight settled against her.

“I thought for a moment you weren’t coming,” she whispered glancing between the three crowded around her.

John brushed hair from her face “We would never give up on you Mary,” he assured. His chest was tight still anxious to get as far away from the place as possible.

Sherlock’s hand found John’s shoulder and squeezed it gently. The doctor leaned into his lover, bringing his own hand up to grip the hand. Mary smiled weakly as she watched this “Beautiful,” she whispered laying her head against Greg’s shoulder as they settled into wait.


	23. Right with the World

Mary was safe and healing well. Thankfully none of her wounds weren’t life threatening and the doctor’s assured everything would heal cleanly but Mary would carry a few dozen scars that littered her torso and chest. She didn’t seem too effected by what happened. Even the somewhat fresh gunshot had been forgotten amongst the others that covered her body. Some nights Mary woke from nightmares but Greg’s constant presence reminder her that she would be truly safe now.

Greg stayed by her side for two weeks while she recovered in the hospital and no one could get him to leave, not even Mary herself. Lestrade finally managed to leave to catch up on a few things at work but was back in the hospital only hours later bringing stacks of paper with him.

John was in the same boat as Greg, trying to spend as much time as he could at Mary’s bedside only coaxing and assurance from Sherlock pulled him away. Mary was grateful for the consulting detective, she just wanted to heal and go home.

Everything was going just as the doctor’s hoped and gave Mary a clean bill, telling her she could go home at the end of week two. Greg insisted that Mary give up her flat and come live with him, bless his heart! Mary did indeed love the Detective Inspector but she loved her flat as well and wasn’t ready to give the place up just yet.

Everyone was there for Mary’s return home. John, Greg, and Sherlock showed up at the hospital, escorting through the halls like body guards. She laughed at them and hoped their protectiveness would die down a bit when they were assured nothing dangerous would happen to her again.

“Come on guys,” Mary urged when they finally arrived outside her flat, “I’m fine! Really! Ryan is dead and I have nothing to worry about, anymore.”

The three didn’t look convinced but followed as she unlocked the door and headed inside.  Mary froze in the doorway, eyes staring and fixed on a tall figure in her living room. Her mouth fell open and she forgot about the men behind her.

Sherlock pulled Mary back while Greg and John both pulled their guns aiming at the man in the living room. Seeing the guns Mary broke from Sherlock’s hold and stood in front of the guns, raising her hands.

“Guys, it’s alright.” She told them glancing at the man.

Reluctantly the two lowered their guns but kept them in hand and ready.

Smiling at them Mary turned towards the man before crossing the room and hugging him. The three men were surprised, unsure of what to take of the scene before them.

Mary pulled back from the man laughing but didn’t let go of him “Took your time getting here! I was half expecting you to air drop into my hospital room.”

The man chuckled pulling her into another hug “Believe me I was this close to doing just that. If I hadn’t been stuck in Uganda I would have been here sooner.” He told her in a very American accent.

The two broke a part grinning at each other, “So not only did you manage to get shot but tortured.” The man said with a shake of his head.

Mary shrugged “Sounds almost as good as that month in Italy,” she joked.

The man shivered “No, nothing will ever be as bad as Italy.”

Mary laughed before throwing herself into another hug “God it’s good to see you! You have no idea how much I missed you.”

The man patted her back “Don’t tell me you actually care!” he teased. Mary pulled back to punch him playfully in the arm.

Suddenly remembering the other three men in the room Mary turned to them “Guys, this is Sebastian Moran an old friend of mine.” She introduced. Handshakes were passed around as well as proper greetings.

“Boyfriend?” Sebastian exclaimed when meeting Greg, “How did you managed to tie her down long enough to get her to agree to that?” Mary slapped his arm giggling.

Greg was unsure of this man. Mary was very comfortable with him but something didn’t feel right.

“So Sebastian how do you know Mary?” John asked also suspicious of the newcomer.

Sebastian looked at Mary before turning to the group “That’s classified.” It wasn’t a joke.

The three looked at Mary as she fidgeted.

“There’s a few things I need to tell you,” she said gesturing towards the couch. Once everyone was seated Mary started speaking “I’m not originally from London or England for that matter,” as if on cue her English accent faded replaced by an American one, “and I’m not some cashier either. I’m an undercover CIA agent.” She paused letting that hang in the air.

“Four years ago I was posing as Ryan’s girlfriend to get the details on his operation when things went south.” Mary took a deep breath, the memories rushing through her, “Ryan found out about me from a snitch. He ambushed me and we went off grid, no one could find us. For almost a year I was kept drugged and locked in a basement. I didn’t lie about what happened to me.” Her voice was barely a whisper, silent tears trailing down her face.

“When I finally managed to escape…everything was bad…Ryan had disappeared…I…I was having trouble functioning properly…so I left…Sebastian arranged for me to be moved to London and learn how to be normal again.”

“CIA?” Sherlock repeated getting a nod from Mary. He now understood what Mycroft must have wanted to tell him.

“Is your name even Mary Morstan?” John asked his face unreadable.

“Yes, I didn’t feel a need to change my name. Ryan had an alias. The only thing I changed was my accent.” She replied.

“So the sobriety meeting…?” John was saying when his voice faded.

“It was real John,” Mary assured knowing he would take this the hardest since Sherlock’s fake death had destroyed him, “I haven’t lied to you.”

John stared hard at her before a smile crept on his face “Good,” he said but Mary knew he would be a little anger about this for a while.

Greg reached over and gripped Mary’s hand “I don’t care who you were before, I love who you are now.” He told her and she couldn’t help the warmth that flooded through her.

Mary squeezed his hand before looking at Sebastian “So Sebby,” she gave him a wink when she used his nickname, “what have you been up to the last few years?”

“Well you remember the sniper gig I was doing…” the story went on from there as the group settled in for the night.

For now everything was as it should be. Everyone was alive and in their proper places. Mary definitely felt at home with her Detective Inspector, broken army doctor, and reincarnated consulting detective by her side. Nothing in the near future was going pull them apart and the CIA agent relished this knowledge and leaned into Greg, not really listening just content in looking around at her friend’s faces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this is the end of this story but don't worry there will always be another one on it's way.


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